THE  LIBRARY 
OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 
RIVERSIDE 


BODY  AND   SOUL 


By     ARNOLD     BENNETT 


NOVELS 

THE  ROLL-CAri. 
THE   PRETTY  LADY 
THE  lion's  share 

these  twain 
cxayhanger 
huba  lessways 

THE   OLD   wives'  TAIE 

DENRY  THE   AODACIOUS 

THE  OLD   ADAM 

HELEN   WITH   THE   HIGH   HAND 

THE   MATADOR    OF   THE   FIVE   TOWNS 

THE   BOOK  OF   CARLOITA 

BURIED    ALIVE 

A   GREAT    MAN 

LEONORA 

WHOM  GOD   HATH    JOINED 

A   MAN    FROM   THE    NORTH 

ANNA  OF  THE   FIVE  TOWNS 

THE    GLIMPSE 

THE  CITY  OF  PLEASDUE 

THE  GRAND  BABYLON  HOTEL 

HUGO 

THE  GATES  OF  WRATH 

POCKET  PHILOSOPHIES 

SELF   AND    SELF -MANAGEMENT 

THE   author's   CRAFT 

MARRIED    LIFE 

FRTENDSHIP   AND    HAPPINESS 

HOW   TO    LIVE    ON    24    HOURS   A   DAY 

THE  HUMAN  MACHINE 

LITERARY   TASTE 

MENIAL  EFFICIENCY 

PLAYS 

BODY  AND  SOUL 
SACRED   AND  PROFANE   LOVE 
JLTDITH 
THE   TITLE 

THE   GREAT   ADVENTURE 
CUPm    AND    COMMONSENSE 
WHAT   THE   PUBLIC    WANTS 
POLITE    FARCES 
THE   HONEYMOON 
m  COLLABORATION  WITH  EDWARD  ENOBLOCK 
MILESTONES 

MISCELLANEOUS 
our  women 
books  and  persons 
paris  nights 

the  truth  about  an  author 
liberty! 
over  there:  war  scenes 


GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK 


BODY  AND  SOUL 

A  PLAY  IN  FOUR  ACTS 


BY 


ARNOLD   3ENNETT 

Author  of  "Judith,"  "Clayhanger," 
"Sacred  and  Profane  Love,"  "The 
Old  Wives'  Tale,"  "The  Title,"  etc. 


GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW   YORK 


Copyright,  1921, 
BY  George  H.  Doran  Company 


PRINTED   IN   THE    UNITED    STATES   OF   AMERICA 


CHARACTERS  IN  THE  PLAY 

Blanche  Nixon 

Lady  Mab  Infold 

Mrs.  Clews 

Edith  Tunnicliff 

Parlourmaid 

Aaron  Draper 

Ezra  Clews 

Procopo 

The  JNIarquis  of  Wix 

Waiter 


ACTS  AND  SCENES 
ACT  I 

LADY   MAB's   sitting-room   IN   THE   GRAND  BABYLON 

HOTEL 

Scene  I.      Morning. 

Scene  II,     The    same    morning;     immediately    after 
Scene  I. 

ACT  II 

SAME    AS    ACT   I 

Scene  I.      Evening  of  the  same  day. 

Scene  II.     The  same  evening;  immediately  after  Scene 

I. 
Scene  III.  The  following  morning. 

ACT  III 

MRS.    clews'    drawing-room    AT   BURSLEY 

Scene  I.      Afternoon  of  the  same  day. 
Scene  II.    Afternoon  of  the  following  day. 

ACT  IV 

SAME    AS    ACT    I 

Morning  of  the  next  day  but  one. 


BODY  AND  SOUL 


ACT  I 

SCENE  I 

Lady  Mob  Infold's  private  sitting-room  i/ti  the 
Grand  Babylon  Hotel  The  furniture  and 
decorations  are  i/n  the  most  extreme  manner 
of  the  Roger  Fry  school.  Doors  centre,  left, 
and  right. 

Time:    Mornvng.    Lady  Mob  is  alone. 
Enter  Waiter,  followed  by  Aaron  Draper. 

Waiter.    Mr.  Aaron  Draper. 
[Exit  Waiter.'] 
Lady  Mab  [hastening  eagerly  towards  Draper]. 
Darling,  may  I  tell  you  a  secret? 
Aaron.    Tell. 

Lady  Mab.     At  first  I  thought  your  name  was 
absurd.    Now  I  love  it.    Aaron ! 

Aaron.    Pretty  good  old  ecclesiastical  name. 
Lady  Mab.    But  do  be  David  for  a  bit. 
Aaron.     David? 

7 


8  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Lady  Mob.  David  would  have  kissed  me  ten 
times  before  this.  [They  embrace  tenderly.'] 
Would  you  mind  kissing  my  eyes?  [^Aaron  does 
so.]  Ah!  [with  a  sigh  of  ecstasy] .  You  kiss  well, 
Let  us  sit. 

Aaron.  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  that 
pipe,  Mab? 

Lady  Mab  [filling  a  pipe].   Smoke  it,  of  course. 

Aaron  [incredulous].    You  aren't! 

Lady  Mab.  Why  not.?  Heaps  of  girls  at  the 
Slade  smoke  pipes. 

Aaron.    What's  the  Slade? 

Lady  Mab.  You  don't  mean  to  say  you've 
never  heard  of  the  Slade ! 

Aaron.     Oh!     That  art  student  place. 

Lady  Mab.  It's  the  best  school  of  art  in  Eng- 
land. 

Aaron.     Still 

Lady  Mab.     I  suppose  girls  may  smoke? 

Aaron.     Certainly. 

Lady  Mah.  Then  why  shouldn't  they  smoke 
pipes?  What's  the  difference  between  smoking  a 
pipe  and  smoking  cigarettes?  Each  of  them  is 
merely  a  device  for  getting  the  vapour  of  to- 
bacco into  the  human  mouth.  Wood  or  paper, 
what  can  it  matter? 

Aaron.     True. 

Lady  Mab.  The  objection  to  women  smoking 
pipes  is  purely  conventional. 

Aaron.     True. 


ACT  I  9 

Lady  Mab.  Moreover,  all  you  men  say  that 
pipes  are  the  healthiest  form  of  smoking  and 
cigarettes  the  most  vicious. 

Aaron.    Trae. 

Lady  Mab.  Well,  then.  There's  no  answer  to 
the  argument.     Give  me  a  match,  please. 

Aaron  [handing  matches].  There's  only  one 
answer. 

Lady  Mab.    What  is  it.? 

Aaron.  May  I  have  a  look  at  that  pipe?  [She 
gives  him  the  pipe.  He  puts  it  in  his  mouth. '\ 
And  may  I  trouble  you  for  a  light  ? 

Lady  Mab.    Aaron,  you  are  being  Aaron  again. 

Aaron.    May  I  trouble  you  for  a  light? 

Lady  Mab  [as  she  strikes  a  match'\.  But  this 
is  no  answer  to  argument. 

Aaron  [smoking].  On  the  contrary,  it  is  a 
conclusive  answer. 

Lady  Mab.     You're  very  irrational. 

Aaron.    I  am. 

Lady  Mab.  Then  when  we're  married  I  can't 
smoke  a  pipe. 

Aaron.  You  can^  of  course,  but  you  won't. 
Neither  when  we're  married  nor  while  we're  en- 
gaged. 

Lady  Mab.  We've  been  engaged  twenty-four 
hours. 

Aaron  [looking  at  his  watch].     About. 

Lady  Mab.  And  I  suppose,  darling,  all  this 
signifies  that  you're  one  of  those  terrible  northern 


10  BODY  AND  SOUL 

people  who  always  "begin  as  they  mean  to   go 


55 


on. 

Aaron.  Yes,  my  sweet.  \_Kisses  her  eyes 
again.^ 

Lady  Mab.    Well,  you've  begun.     Go  on. 

Aaron.    What  do  you  mean? 

Lady  Mab.  What's  the  next  lesson?  There 
are  always  two  at  least.  I  know  I've  a  lot  to 
learn.     Do  go  on. 

Aaron  [^Jiesitatmg^.     Shall  I? 

Lady  Mab.  Of  course.  There's  no  danger — 
we're  both  so  frightfully  polite. 

Aaron.  Nothing's  more  dangerous  than  too 
much  politeness. 

Lady  Mab.  Now  that  is  true;  but  you  must 
have  learnt  it  in  the  Midlands. 

Aaron.  Still,  I'll  go  on,  in  my  affectionate 
way. 

Lady  Mab.  I  thought  you  had  something  on 
your  mind,  darling. 

Aaron.    All  this — er — publicity. 

Lady  Mab.     Publicity?     Oh!    That! 

Aaron.  It  seemed  to  m^e  there  was  a  rare  lot 
of  publicity  last  night  at  the  Opera.  You  and 
3^our  friends  all  paying  one  another  visits  in  your 
boxes  the  whole  time,  and  chattering,  and  wav- 
ing to  each  other  across  the  theatre.  Mozart 
simply  hadn't  a  chance. 

Lady  Mab.  But  that  had  nothing  to  do  with 
our  engagement. 


ACT  I  11 

Aaron.     Really? 

Lady  Mob.     No.     We  always  do  that. 

Aaron.  But  it  was  just  like  a  family  party — 
performed  in  public. 

Lady  Mab.  It  is  a  family  party.  You  see,  it's 
we  who  have  put  opera  on  its  legs  in  London. 

Aaron.     Who? 

Lady  Mab.  My  set.  Me.  About  a  score  of 
us. 

Aaron.     Oh!     I  thought  it  was  Beecham. 

Lady  Mah.  Well,  of  course  he  helps.  But  it's 
we  who  have  made  it  the  rage.  And  we  must  meet 
and  talk. 

Aaron.  Oh!  All  right.  Only  there  ought  to 
be  two  stages,  like  Barnum  and  Bailey's. 

Lady  Mab.     Two  stages? 

Aaron.  One  for  the  opera  and  the  other  for 
your  restless  friends.  Simultaneous  performance. 
However,  I  really  didn't  mean  to  mention  that. 
What  I  had  in  mind  was  this  morning's  news- 
papers. I  see  you've  got  some  of  them  there 
[^pomting^ . 

Lady  Mab.  All  of  them.  I  always  take  in  all 
the  London  papers. 

Aaron.  Why?  I  know  you'll  excuse  these 
questions,  seeing  that  I'm  almost  a  stranger  in 
your  set.    Why? 

Lady  Mab.  Because  I'm  usually  in  all  of  them. 
You  must  have  noticed  that  long  before  you  met 
me. 


12  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Aaron.  No,  I  didn't.  I'd  only  time  for  one 
paper,  and  I  only  read  the  news  in  that. 

Lady  Mab.  But  damn  it,  you  delicious  old 
prig,  I  am  the  news. 

Aaron.  So  I'm  beginning  to  see.  There  are 
ten  photographs  of  jou  in  this  morning's  press, 
and  seven  of  them  are  different. 

Lady  Mob.  The  photographers  will  never 
leave  me  alone.  They  settle  on  me  like  flies  on 
sugar. 

Aaron.    It  must  cost  you  a  heap  of  money. 

Lady  Mab.  Not  a  penny.  They  take  me  for 
nothing.  Glad  to.  They  fight  for  me.  In  fact 
one  paper  paid  me  £100  for  sitting.  \QuicMy.^ 
Keep  calm.  I  gave  the  money  to  Queen  Alexan- 
dra's Rose  Day. 

Aaron.  But  look  here,  my  orchid.  How  did 
the  Daily  Express  get  my  photograph?  My 
photograph  isn't  public.  [Pointing  to  photograph 
on  table.l^    That's  the  only  copy  in  existence. 

Lady  Mab.  Ah!  Now  we're  coming  to  the 
point. 

Aaron.    We  are. 

Lady  Mab.  I  lent  it  to  them.  I  had  to.  They 
promised  to  return  it  in  two  hours,  and  they  did. 
Don't  be  shocked.  Of  course  ours  was  such  a 
lightning  engagement,  and  you're  a  stranger  to 
my  set,  as  you  say.  But  you'll  soon  pick  up  our 
code.  Still,  I  suppose  I  ought  to  have  asked  you 
about  the  photograph  first. 


ACT  I  13 

Aaron.    Why  didn't  you? 

Lady  Mah.  Because  I  knew  jou'd  never  agree. 
You  love  me  to  be  honest,  don't  you? 

Aaron.  Appears  to  me  that  I'm  engaged  to  a 
public  institution. 

Lady  Mah.  That's  just  it.  You  are.  I'm  a 
public  institution.  Oh,  my  Aaron !  Do  get  me 
out  of  it.  Do  save  me.  I  hate  it,  really.  It's 
not  my  fault.  I  don't  know  how  it's  happened. 
It  came  gradually.  It  began  when  I  was  eighteen, 
after  father  and  mother  died,  and  I  took  rooms 
in  this  hotel  and  had  them  furnished  according 
to  my  own  ideas.  From  that  moment  I  couldn't 
blow  my  nose  without  the  affair  getting  into  the 
Daily  Mirror.  Things  might  have  been  different 
if  dad  hadn't  been  a  marquis,  and  if  he  hadn't 
owned  coal  royalties,  and  if  I  hadn't  had  most 
marvellous  eyes.  But  as  it  was,  I  was  a  marked 
woman.  You  understand  now,  don't  you?  If 
the  use  of  my  handkerchief  is  an  event,  what  must 
my  engagement  be?  Why,  my  engagement  has 
knocked  the  Peace  Treaty  all  to  bits.  What  the 
wedding  will  be  like  I  cannot  imagine.  I  suppose 
it  will  have  to  be  at  St.  IMargaret's. 

Aaron.  The  wedding  will  be  at  a  registry 
office,  probably  in  Camden  Town,  and  the  wit- 
nesses will  be  the  charwoman  of  the  registry  office 
and  the  first  loafer  I  meet  in  the  street. 

Lady  Mah.  How  heavenly!  .  .  .  See!  All 
these  telegrams.     Congratulations  on  my  engage- 


14  BODY  AND  SOUL 

merit!  I  opened  about  ten.  Then  I  got  tired. 
See !  \_She  picks  up  all  the  telegrams,  opened  and 
unopened,  and  throws  them  over  him.^  Bless  you! 
How  many  telegrams  have  you  had? 

Aaron.  Oh!  About  one.  From  a  fellow  at  the 
nitrate  works  in  Cheshire. 

Lady  Mab.  How  splendid  to  be  as  unknown 
as  you  are! 

Aaron.    Even  you  don't  know  me,  yet. 

Lady  Mab.    Teach  me  to  know  you. 

Aaron.  I  will.  Pick  up  all  these  telegrams, 
please. 

Lady  Mab.     I'll  ring. 

Aaron  {^persuasively^.  No,  no,  don't  ring. 
Pick  them  up.     You  threw  them  about. 

Lady  Mab.    You  help  me. 

Aaron.  When  you've  picked  up  twenty,  I'll  do 
the  rest.  Go  on.  [^She  obeys.^  And  while  you're 
on  your  knees,  there's  just  one  more  tiling.  \_Lady 
Mab  looks  up  at  him  with  a  plaintive  glance.  He 
breaks  off  and  adopts  a  caressing,  apologetic  ajr.] 
I  say,  you  don't  mimd  me  blazing  away  like  this? 

Lady  Mab.  I  love  having  my  soul  saved.  Please 
do  proceed. 

Aaron.  I  felt  sure  you  wouldn't  mind.  You 
told  me  about  my  necktie  yesterday,  and  so  I 
thought  I  might  touch  lightly  on  one  or  two 
little  matters  to-day.  Then  we  should  be  start- 
ing fair. 


ACT  I  16 

Lady  Mob.  Your  necktie  to-day  is  adorable. 
WeU? 

Aaron.  Well,  it's  about  this  spiritualist  busi- 
ness.    I  think  if  you're  wise  you'll  drop  it. 

Lady  Mab.  Spiritualist  business?  You  mean 
Procopo. 

Aaron.    I  mean  Mr.  Procopo. 

Lady  Mab.  But  I've  put  Procopo  on  the  map. 
No  dinner-party  is  complete  without  him.  You 
must  meet  him.  He's  astounding.  He'll  con- 
vince you. 

Aaron.    Convince  me  of  what.'' 

Lady  Mab.  Well,  you  know,  it's  not  what 
you'd  call  spiritualism  at  all.  It's  the  mystery 
of  personality  that  Procopo  specialises  in — per- 
sonal consciousness,  the  nature  of  individuality, 
and  that  sort  of  thing.  He  studied  it  in  the  East. 
Of  course  you've  heard  of  multiple  personality. 

Aaron.  Only  in  politics — Prime  Ministers  with 
an  unreliable  majority  having  to  be  all  things  to 
all  men,  and  that  sort  of  thing. 

Lady  Mab.    Will  you  be  serious? 

Aaron.    I  certainly  will. 

Lady  Mab.  There  are  authenticated  cases  of 
multiple  personality. 

Aaron.  Two  or  more  distinct  personalities  in 
one  body? 

Lady  Mab.    Yes. 

Aaron.    I  don't  believe  it. 

Lady  Mab.    Then  I  must  ask  you  to  read  that 


16  BODY  AND  SOUL 

book  there,  by  Sidis  and  Goodhart.    It's  a  classic. 

Aaron.  And  who  are  Sidis  and  Goodhart? 
[Fingering   hooh.^ 

Lady  Mab.  Sidis  is  a  professor  at  Harvard 
and  Goodhart  is  a  professor  at  Yale.  Both  of 
them  very  well-known  psychologists. 

Aaron  [slightly  dashedl.    Oh! 

Lady  Mab.     Procopo  lent  me  that  book. 

Aaron.  And  how  many  personalities  has  Pro- 
copo got.? 

Lady  Mab.  Oh!  He's  quite  normal  himself. 
Quite  normal.  You'll  see.  But  he  has  carried 
the  investigation  much  further.  Procopo  claims 
that  individualities  can  be  exchanged  between 
bodies. 

Aaron.    How.? 

Lady  Mab.  By  means  of  hypnotic  suggestion 
— and  other  faculties  of  his  own. 

Aaron.    Is  he  supposed  to  be  a  hypnotist.? 

Lady  Mab.  His  hypnotic  powers  are  unques- 
tionable. 

Aaron.  Could  he  turn  you  into  me  and  me 
into  you.? 

Lady  Mab.  Ah!  You  mustn't  go  to  extremes. 
Besides,  he  expressly  says  no  individuality  is  trans- 
ferable to  the  opposite  sex. 

Aaron.  Well,  that's  some  relief,  anyway.  But 
do  you  seriously  assert  that  Procopo  seriously 
asserts  that  he  could  put  your  mind  into  some 


ACT  I  1*7 

other  woman's  body,  and  some  other  woman's  mind 
into  yours? 

Lady  Mab.    Yes. 

Aaron.     Complete.     Memory,  associations,  and 

aU? 

Lady  Mab.  Yes.  Everything.  Why,  it's  been 
done  several  times  in  India  within  the  last  few 
years ! 

Aaron.     But  India's  several  thousand  miles  off. 
Lady  Mah.     He's  offered  to  make  an  experi- 
ment on  me,  here. 

Aaron.    He'd  better  not. 
Lady  Mah.     Why? 

Aaron.  I  wouldn't  have  you  altered  even  the 
shghtcst  bit  for  anything. 

Lady  Mah  {^rising  and  going  to  him,  grate- 
fully]. Oh,  Aaron!  I'm  so  glad.  You've  given 
me  back  my  confidence.  [Handing  him  telegrams 
which  she  has  picked  up.]  Here  are  twenty. 
Count  them  if  j'ou  like. 

Aaron.  Now  it's  my  turn  ^moving]. 
Lady  Mah.  No,  don't  move.  [She  sits  on  his 
knee.  Persuasively.]  But  I  assure  you  Procopo 
really  is  unique.  You've  only  got  to  go  into  the 
matter  and  you'd  see  at  once  that  we're  on  the 
eve  of  marvellous  discoveries  in  the  psychology  of 
consciousness. 

Aaron.    I  have  been  going  into  the  matter,  and 
we  are  on  the  eve  of  marvellous  discoveries. 
Lady  Mab.    What? 


18  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Aaron.  The  editor  of  Truth  will  publish  an 
article  about  your  Procopo's  past  next  week. 

Lady  Mab.  The  editor  of  Truth!  Aaron,  you 
aren't  a  journalist,  are  you? 

Aaron.  No.  But  when  I  was  in  the  Army 
Truth  ventilated  some  of  our  grievances  for  us. 
That's  how  I  came  to  know  the  editor.  And  he's 
been  telling  me  about  Procopo. 

Ladi/  Mab.     What  about  Procopo.'' 

Aaron.  Nine  years  ago  Procopo  got  fourteen 
days  for  common  fortune-telling  at  Birmingham. 
That's  your  Procopo.  Truth  has  obtained  photo- 
graphs and  a  full  transcript  of  the  evidence  given 
at  the  police-court.  Next  Tuesday  the  great  Pro- 
copo bubble  will  burst.  And  I  don't  want  my  Mab 
to  suffer  in  the  explosion. 

Lady  Mab.     But  is  this  true? 

Aaron.    It's  as  true  as  my  knee  [jogging  her^. 

Lady  Mab  {rising  suddenly^.  Oh!  Aaron! 
Give  me  up. 

Aaron.    Give  you  up? 

Lady  Mab.  I'm  no  good.  I  always  knew  I  was 
no  good. 

Aaron.     Have  you  been  in  prison  too? 

Lady  Mab.  My  caste  is  no  good.  We're  done 
for,  we  aristocrats.  To  be  the  daughter  of  a 
marquis  nowadays  is  simply  damnation.  I've  tried. 
I've  tried  to  live  it  down.  But  I  can't.  Cabinet 
Ministers  flatter  me  and  tell  me  their  secrets, 
but  I'm  no  good.     Great  painters  paint  me,  but 


ACT  I  19 

I^m  no  good.  And  they  aren't  either,  when 
I've  done  with  them.  I'm  right  in  the  middle  of 
the  swim,  all  the  swims,  but  I'm  no  good.  I'm 
the  idol  of  the  picture-papers,  but  I'm  no  good. 
There's  something  queer  in  me.  Oh!  If  only 
Procopo  was  genuine  after  all!  Wouldn't  I  be 
changed  into  somebody  else!  Somebody  in  Bir- 
mingham, perhaps !  Yes,  and  wouldn't  I  like  to 
see  somebody  else  messing  up  my  job!  Throw  me 
away,  Aaron !  I  shall  never  make  you  happy. 
I'm  too  frightfully  clever  to  be  anything  but  a 
fool.    Throw  me  away!     \_She  clings  to  him.^ 

Aaron  [^seizing  large  fiower-glassl^.  I'll  throw 
tliis  water  over  you  if  you  get  hysterical.  Kiss  me, 
my  box-of-tricks. 

Lady  Mob.  You  take  all  the  responsibility, 
then? 

Aaron.    What  of? 

Lady  Mah.     Not  throwing  me  away. 

Aaron.     I  do.     [They  kiss.^ 

Lady  Mah  [moving  away  and  gazing  at  him]. 
I'm  sorry  for  you,  Aaron. 

[Enter  Waiter.] 

Waiter.  A  lady  with  two  typewriting  ma- 
chines, my  lady. 

Lady  Mah.  Oh!  Bother!  And  Kitty  isn't 
here. 

Aaron.     Who's  Kitty? 

Lady  Mah.    You  know  Miss  Crane. 

Aaron.     Oh!     Your  doormat. 


20  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Lady  Mab.  My  secretary.  She's  ill.  Aaron, 
choose  a  typewriter  for  me.  My  old  one's  worn 
out.  Every  one  said  typewriters  couldn't  be  had, 
so  I  ordered  one  to  be  here  by  noon  to-day.  And 
here  it  is.    That's  me.    What  I  want  I  get. 

Aaron.  But  I  don't  know  anything  about  type- 
writers. 

Lady  Mab.  Neither  do  I.  Now,  you've  taken 
all  responsibilities,  Aaron.  This  is  the  first  of 
them.  I  can't  talk  to  typewriter  girls  to-day. 
I'll  go  and  swallow  some  aspirin. 

Aaron.  And  supposing  I  choose  a  machine  you 
don't  like  and  Kitty  Crane  doesn't  like? 

Lady  Mab.  What  I  like  Kitty  likes,  and  what 
you  like  I  like.  If  Kitty's  my  doormat,  I'm  yours. 
I'm  determined  to  be  your  doormat.  How  sick  I 
am  of  being  a  silly  capricious  aristocrat.  Bully 
me !     Wipe  your  feet  on  me. 

Aaron.     Go  at  once  and  swallow  your  aspirin. 
[^Lady  Mab  goes  slavisJdy  to  the  door,  and  then 
suddenly  turns  round  and  makes  a  charming 
insubordmate  grimace  at  Aaron,  who  moves 
towards  the  door.'\ 

lEwit  Lady  Ma&.] 

CURTAIN 


SCENE  II 

Time  :    The  same  morning. 

Blanche  and  Edith  are  arranging  two  typewriting 

machines. 

Blanche  [with  a  Lancashire  accent^.  Let  be! 
Let  be!  I'll  take  th'  covers  off.  And  you  can 
take  yeself  off,  my  girl.  You've  done  your  little 
bit. 

Edith  [with  a  Cockney  accent'].  Can't  I  stay 
and  see  you  sell  a  machine,  Miss  Nixon? 

Blanche.  No,  Miss  TunniclifF,  that  ye  cannot, 
and  well  ye  know  it.  Ye're  wanted  back  at  th' 
shop  this  minute. 

Edith.  How  do  you  get  round  them,  Miss 
Nixon  ? 

Blanche.  I  study  'em.  I  study  their  fads. 
I  find  out  what  pleases  'em.  Ye  never  know  if 
summat  won't  lead  to  summat  else.  I'm  all  for 
summat  else.  And  when  I've  found  out  a  bit 
what  pleases  'em,  I  make  'em  think  it  pleases 
me  too,  and  then  I  let  fly,  in  a  manner  of  speak- 
ing. But  it  isn't  as  easy  as  all  that,  neither.  So 
you  needn't  think  it.  [Picking  up  book.]  "Mul- 
tiple Personality,"  Sidis  and  Goodhart.  Oh  my! 
[Picking  up  a  pamphlet.]  'Trocopo."  Oh  my ! 
21 


22  BODY  AND  SOUL 

"A  theory  of  the  exchange  of  individualities." 
Bless  us!  [To  Edith.]  Off  with  ye!  [As  Edith  is 
going.]     Hey ! 

Edith.    Yes,  Miss  Nixon? 

Blanche.  Which  machine  does  th'  boss  want 
me  to  plant  on  her  ladyship? 

Edith.  The  Conquest.  There's  several  people 
after  the  Imperials. 

Blanche.  Art  sure?  Th'  Conquest.  Not  th' 
Imperial  ? 

Edith.    No.    The  Conquest. 

Blanche.  Well,  th'  old  Conquest  '11  want  a  bit 
of  selling  at  sixty-five  guineas.  It  wasna'  born 
yesterday,  nor  yet  seven  years  ago.  It's  a 
profiteer  at  sixty-five  guineas,  th'  old  Conquest  is. 
You  can  politely  'ook  it,  miss.  Here  [giving  her 
monei/],  ye  can  buy  a  packet  of  chocolates  in  th' 
Tube.     Save  me  three  on  'em. 

Edith.  Thank  you.  Miss  Nixon.  [Exit.] 
[Blanche  takes  the  covers  off  the  two  machines.] 
[Enter  Aaron.] 

Aaron.     Good  morning. 

Blanche  [with  a  correct  London  accent].  Good 
morning. 

Aaron.  So  these  are  the  typewriters.  Lady 
Mab  Infold  is  unable  to  see  you  this  morning,  and 
her  secretary  is  not  available,  and  so  she's  asked 
me  to  try  what  I  can  do  in  the  matter. 

Blanche.    Certainly. 

Aaron.     What  makes  have  you  brought? 


ACT  I  23 

Blanche.  I've  brought  an  Imperial  and  a  Con- 
quest.    Two  of  the  best  modem  machines. 

Aaron.    Ah,  yes. 

BJanclw.  Do  you  know  anything  about  type- 
writers? 

Aaron  \^somewhnt  taken  ahack'\.  No.  But  I'm 
a  business  man, 

Blanche.  I  feel  sure  you'll  pardon  my  ques- 
tion. It  saves  so  much  trouble  in  the  end.  Then, 
if  I  may,  I'll  just  explain  to  you  the  points  of 
the  Imperial. 

Aaron.  One  moment.  I  should  like  to  ask  you 
something  first. 

BlancJie.  Please  do.  I'm  here  to  give  all  infor- 
mation. 

Aaron.  I  understand  there's  a  serious  short- 
age of  typewriting  machines.'' 

Blanche.  Very  serious  indeed.  There  are  no 
new  machines  on  the  market.  .  .  .  Owing  to  the 
war,  of  course. 

Aaron.  Your  firm  can  get  practically  any 
price  it  likes  for  second-hand  machines? 

Blanche.  We  have  to  pay  practically  any  price 
for  old  machines  that  we  hear  of  for  sale. 

Aaron.    The  demand  far  exceeds  the  supply? 

Blanche.  Very  far.  We  have,  perhaps,  three 
or  four  earnest  applicants  for  every  machine  we 
can  offer. 

Aaron.  Then  how  comes  it  that  your  firm  is 
ready   to   put   itself   to    the   trouble   of   actually 


24  BODY  AND  SOUL 

sending  two  machines  here  for  Lady  Mab  to  choose 
from?  Because,  according  to  jou,  there  are  half 
a  dozen  people  waiting  anxiously  in  your  shop  to 
buy  these  very  machines.  Where  is  your  advan- 
tage? Pardon  the  question.  I'm  merely  asking 
as  a  business  man. 

Blanche.  Well,  I  feel  sure  that  as  a  business 
man  you'll  understand  me  perfectly  when  I  say 
that  I  happen  to  be  selling  typewriters — not  buy- 
ing them. 

Aaron  [/ijf,  hut  smilingl.  I  understand  you 
perfectly. 

Blanche,  Of  course,  I  needn't  point  out  that 
the  demand  for  typewriters  won't  always  exceed 
the  supply,  and  that  we  like  to  secure  good  new 
customers.  Lady  Mab  Infold  would  be  a  very 
good  customer. 

Aaron.  Do  you  expect  her  ladyship  to  buy  a 
new  machine  every  month? 

Blanche.  No.  Perhaps  one  every  five  years  or 
so. 

Aaron.  Then  why  should  she  be  a  better  cus- 
tomer than  anybody  else? 

Blanche.     Because  she's  Lady  Mab  Infold. 

Aaron.    How  odd! 

Blanche.  It  is.  [They  look  at  each  other.^ 
But  so  true !  Now  if  you'll  allow  me  to  show  you 
this  Imperial. 

Aaron.     Why  not  the  Conquest? 


ACT  I  25 

Blanche  [feigning  reluctance].  Certainly,  if 
you  wish. 

Aaron.     No.    We'll  begin  with  the  Imperial. 

Blanche  [sitting  down  to  the  machine  and  re- 
moving her  gloves].  The  Imperial  has  thirty 
keys  and  two  shift  keys.  You  see  [taps'].  Pro- 
ducing eighty-eight  characters.  Back  space  for 
corrections  [taps].  Tabulator  for  figure  work. 
The  tabulator  is  built  in.  Automatic  ruling.  Dis- 
appearing pointer.  You  see.  Now  you'll  notice 
one  interesting  thing — practically  the  whole  of 
the  mechanism  is  covered  in. 

Aaron.    What's  the  point  of  that? 

Blanche.  Keeps  out  the  dust  you  make  when 
you're  using  the  eraser.  Of  course,  if  Lady  Mab 
Infold  has  a  miraculous  typist  who  never  makes 
a  mistake  there  isn't  much  point  in  having  the 
mechanism  covered  in.  But,  believe  me,  dust  from 
the  eraser  does  more  harm  to  the  machine  than 
any  amount  of  banging. 

Aaron.    What  is  the  price  of  this  machine.? 

Blanche.     Seventy  guineas. 

Aaron.    You're  not  serious? 

Blanche.    I'm  afraid  I  am. 

Aaron.  But  I  bought  a  first-rate  typewriter 
myself  in  1916  for  twenty-five  pounds. 

Blanche.  Yes,  but  peace  hadn't  been  declared 
then. 

Aaron  [turning  to  tlie  other  machine].  How 
much  is  the  Conquest? 


26  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Blanche  {negligently'\ .  Sixty-five  ^ineas.  It's 
an  older  machine.  May  I  just  type  something  for 
you  on  the  Imperial  ?  [TaMng  paper  from  packet 
and  inserting  it  in  tli£  machine.^  Will  you  dic- 
tate something?  Anything.  The  more  difficult 
the  better.  Perhaps  something  from  that  book 
there  might  do.  If  it's  a  novel  the  dialogue  would 
enable  me  to  show  you  how  quickly  the  column 
selector  works. 

Aaron  [picTiing  up  hoolc^.     It  isn't  a  novel. 

Blanche.     Never  mind. 

Aaron  {^reading^.  "Psychophysiological  dis- 
sociation is  at  the  basis — of  the  psychopathic 
states  of  functional  psychosis."  [Blanche  types.^ 
Got  it.? 

Blanche  \^snatchvng  the  paper  from  tlie  machine 
and  handing  it  to  him^.  Very  clear,  isn't  it.''  Is 
it  correct? 

Aaron  [looking  at  the  paper^.     Some  machine! 

Blanche.  Forgive  my  curiosity.  But  is  that 
Sidis  and  Goodhart's  book  on  "Multiple  Person- 
ality"? 

Aaron  [startled^.    It  is. 

Blanche.    Extraordinarily  interesting,  is  it  not  ? 

Aaron.    I'm  told  so. 

Blanche  [taking  the  paper^.  Now  I  will  show 
you  the  unique  device  by  which  the  paper  can  be 
re-inserted  in  the  exact  position  it  was  in  before  I 
took  it  out.     Will  you  continue  dictatmg? 

Aaron.    I  tliink  we'll  try  the  Conquest  now. 


ACT  I  27 

Blanclie  [jeigning  reluctance^.  With  pleasure. 
But  there  is  no  comparison  between  the  two  ma- 
chines. I  haven't  half  explained  the  devices  on 
the  Imperial  yet.  For  instance,  the  two-colour 
ribbon  attachment 

Aaron.  I  seem  to  like  the  look  of  the  Con- 
quest. 

Blanche.  The  Conquest  also  is  an  excellent 
machine,  but,  as  I  say 

Aaron.    Shall  we  try  it? 

Blanche  \^tu7-mng  to  the  other  machine  wn- 
willingly  ] .     Willingly. 

[A  t  this  point  Lady  Mob  enters  unperceived.  She 
evidently  meant  to  interrupt,  hut  she  stops  at 
the  door  and  listens.  The  other  two  do  not 
notice  her.^ 

Aaron.  I'll  dictate.  '[Blanche  inserts  the 
paper.  He  dictates.']  "The  phenomena  of  multi- 
ple personality  are  full  of  meaning  and  import. 
Far  from  being  mere  freaks  of  consciousness  they 
are  in  fact  shown  to  be  necessary  manifestations 
of  the  very  constitution  of  mental  life.  Multiple 
consciousness  is  not  the  exception  but  the 
law "  [He  stops.] 

Blanche  [having  finished  typing].  Rather 
disturbing,  is  it  not.?  But  how  deeply  sugges- 
tive ! 

Aaron.    These  things  interest  you.'' 

Blanche.  I've  always  been  very  passionately 
interested  in  psychic  phenomena. 


28  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Aaron  \_dryly^.  Well,  what  are  the  points  of 
the  Conquest? 

Blanche.     Oh!     It  has  the  usual  points. 

Aaron.     But  its  special  points? 
[Exit  Lady  Mah.l 

Blanche.  It  has  a  reputation  for  reliability 
and  for  being  rather  well  balanced.  You  see,  the 
keys  come  up  easily.     Now  the  Imperial 

Aaron.  Is  sixty-five  really  the  lowest  for  this 
Conquest? 

Blanche.    Really!  .  .  , 

Aaron.    Pounds? 

Blanche.    Guineas. 

Aaron.  Well,  I  always  decide  quickly.  I'll 
take  the  Conquest  for  Lady  Mab. 

Blanche  [^Lancashire  accent^.  'Swelt  me  bob! 
[London  accent.^     I  beg  your  pardon. 

Aaron  [Lancashire  accent^.  Ye're  a  Lan- 
cashire wench,  then  ? 

Blanche  [Lancashire  accent^.  I  am  that! 
[London  accent.^     I  beg  your  pardon. 

Aaron.     I  doubt  ye're  from  Wigan. 

Blanche.  Nay,  nay!  I'm  no  Wigan  wench. 
I'm  from  Warrington,  I  am.  We  mak'  nowt  o' 
Wigan  down  Warrington  way.  Not  as  I'd  wish 
to  insult  ye,  if  ye're  from  Wigan  yeself.  Fancy 
us  two  Lancashire  folk  doin'  the  la-di-dah  all  this 
time  and  not  knowing  we  was  Lancashire. 

Aaron  [London  accent'\.  Well,  I  don't  happen 
to  be  a  Lancashire  man  really;  but  I  had  several 


ACT  I  29 

years  before  tlie  war  on  a  big  works  near  Wigan, 
and  one  picks  up  the  accent  from  the  men. 

Blanche  [Lancashire  accent].  Ye've  picked  it 
up  right  well. 

Aaron  [London  accent].  Not  as  well  as  you've 
picked  up  a  to^vn  accent. 

Blanche  [Lancashire  accent].  Eh,  I've  got 
three  accents  at  me  command.  There's  th' 
schoo  childer's  accent.  I  used  to  be  in  th' 
teaching  line.  "Please,  teacher,  me  mother 
sa3's  I  must  go  home  early  to-day  because  father's 
got  three  boils  back  o'  th'  neck,  and  he's  sittin' 
in  th'  kitchen  and  he  wants  me  by  him  for  rub- 
bin'."  And  then  there's  the  educated  accent 
of  the  district — that  was  mine.  "No,  Mary 
Elizabeth.  I  can't  let  ye  go  because  ye  say  yer 
father's  got  three  boils  on  his  neck.  Yer  mother 
should  have  written  me  a  note."  [London 
accent.]  And  then  there's  the  accent  that  I  sell 
typewriters  with  in  the  West  End. 

Aaron  [London  accent].  Well,  I'm  always  de- 
lighted to  hear  a  bit  of  Lancashire  again. 

Blanche  [London  accent].  I  am,  too.  Per- 
haps more  than  you  are.  And  because  I'm  so 
pleased  may  I  say  something  confidential  to 
you? 

Aaron.     Oh!     Do. 

Blanche.  You've  bought  the  wrong  type- 
writer.    The  Imperial's  by  far  the  best  value. 


30  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Aaron.  Is  it?  Well,  may  I  say  something 
confidential  to  you. 

Blanche.     Oh !     Do. 

Aaron.  I  chose  the  Conquest  simply  because 
I  saw  you  were  so  determined  to  sell  the  Imperial. 

Blanche,  Not  at  all.  I  was  determined  to 
sell  the  Conquest,  and  I  did. 

Aaron.  Then  why  did  you  insist  so  much  on 
the  other  one? 

Blanche.  Because  you  said  you  were  a 
business  man.  I  knew  you  wouldn't  be  happy  if 
you  couldn't  see  through  me.  You  must  oblige 
me  by  taking  the  Imperial,  and  I'll  let  you  have  it 
at  sixty-five,  which  was  the  real  price.  I  always 
put  a  bit  on,  on  the  chance. 

Aaron.     But  why  this  benevolence? 

Blanche  \^smiling^.  It's  for  the  sake  of  the 
old  Lancashire  accent. 

{^Enter  Lady  Mah.l 

Lady  Mab  [to  Blanche^.  Good  morning.  I'm 
Lady  Mab's  confidential  secretary.  Her  lady- 
ship is  lying  down,  and  I  couldn't  leave  her  be- 
fore.    [Aaron,  flabbergasted,  drops  into  a  chair. ^ 

Blanclie.  I'm  sorry  to  hear  her  ladyship  is  not 
well. 

Lady  Mab  [to  'Aaron^.  Her  ladyship  hopes 
you  have  bought  a  typewriter. 

Blanche  [flriidy  and  significantly,  with  a  glance 
at  Aaron,  who  is  still  dumb  from  the  effects  of 
Lady  MaVs  imposture^.     Yes.     This  gentleman 


ACT  I  31 

has  decided  on  the  Imperial  here.  The  price  was 
seventy  guineas.  But  I  have  arranged  to  take 
sixty-five,  under  the  circumstances. 

Lady  M ah.  Oh!  Indeed!  {To  Aaron.']  Her 
ladyship  wishes  me  to  say  that  she  would  expect 
you  to  dinner  to-night  at  eight. 

Aaron.     But 

Lady  Mob  [firmly  and  significantly].  She 
much  regrets  that  you  can't  stay  longer  this 
morning. 

Aaron  {jumping  up,  rather  resentfully,  to  go~\. 
Yes.  I  must  be  off.  {To  Blanche.]  Good 
morning. 

Blanche.     Good  morning. 

Lady  Mob.     Good  morning,  Mr.  Draper. 
{Exit  Aaron.] 

Blanche.  I  didn't  know  who  I  was  talking  to. 
So  that  is  Mr.  Draper. 

Lady  Mab  {very  amicably  and  alluringly].  It 
is. 

Blanche.    That  Lady  Mab's  engaged  to? 

Lady  Mab.  Yes.  What  do  you  think  of  him? 
{Blanche,  rather  startled,  remains  silent.]  I 
love  him. 

Blanche.    Do  you.'' 

Lady  Mab.     Well,  you  know  what  I  mean. 

Blanche.  Yes,  of  course.  He's  very — er — 
trenchant,  as  one  might  say. 

Lady  Mah  {eagerly].     Yes,  isn't  he?     That's 


32  BODY  AND  SOUL 

what  I  like  about  him.  I  think  that's  what  Lady 
Mab  likes,  too, 

Blanche.  I'd  never  heard  of  him  till  I 
happened  to  see  his  name  in  the  paper  this  morn- 
ing. At  first  when  I  met  him  here  I  thought  he 
must  be  a  steam-hammer  manufacturer  or  some- 
thing.    And  yet  he's  very  nice  with  it. 

Lady  Mab.  Oh,  no.  He's  got  nothing  to  do 
with  iron  or  steel.  He's  what  they  call  a  chemist. 
Not  pills  and  prescriptions.  No.  He's  with 
Polk,  Schweitz  and  Co.  They  have  several  big 
works,  you  know,  in  Lancashire  and  Cheshire. 

Blanche.     Oh !     The  German  firm. 

Lady  Mab.     Swiss. 

Blanche.      Oh,  yes. 

Lady  Mab.  When  he  came  home  wounded  the 
War  OfRce  wouldn't  let  him  return  to  the  Front. 
Polks  were  going  in  for  poison  gas,  and  he  was 
wanted — chemistry,  you  know.  I  suppose  Mr. 
Draper's  responsible  for  killing  more  Germans 
than  any  other  ten  men  in  England. 

Blanche.  More  than  the  old  gentlemen  who 
kept  on  writing  to  the  papers  about  self-sacrifice.'* 

Lady  Mab.  I  was  forgetting  them.  Of  course, 
they  won  the  war, 

Blanche.  I  expect  that  Lady  Mab  and  Mr. 
Draper  have  known  each  other  since  childhood. 

Lady  Mab,  No.  They  only  met  about  two 
months  ago.     In  a  lift  at  the  Piccadilly  Hotel. 


ACT  I  Sa 

Blanche.  How  exciting!  And  he  went  mad 
about  her  at  once? 

Lady  Mah  [reflectively'\.  No.  She  went  mad 
about  him. 

Blanche.     She  must  be  very  courageous. 

Lac!'<i  Mah.  She  has  the  courage  of  her  opin- 
ions,    I'll  say  that  for  her. 

Blanche.  But  did  she  get  herself  introduced 
to  him  or  what.?  It's  so  interesting  to  know  how 
these  tilings  are  done  in  the  best  circles. 

Lady  Mah.  She  happened  to  be  in  the  lift 
with  her  uncle,  the  present  Marquis,  who  is  al- 
ways sitting  on  House  of  Lords  Committees  and 
things,  and  he'd  met  Mr.  Draper  in  some  inquiry 
about  the  accounts  of  the  Trench  Warfare  De- 
partment.    So  it  was  easy. 

Blanche.      Every    one's   very    surprised    at   it. 

Lady  Mah.     At  the  engagement.'' 

Blanche.     Yes. 

Lady  Mah.    Why.? 

Blanche.  Well,  we  all  took  it  for  granted  she'd 
marry  some  one  very  famous — perhaps  a  Prince. 

Lady  Mah.  With  Lady  Mab  you  can  take 
nothing  for  granted.     That's  her  virtue. 

Blanche.     But  Mr.  Draper  is  nobody,  really. 

Lady  Mah.  How  do  you  mean — nobody.? 
He's  a  cousin  of  the  Earl  of  Ross. 

Blanche.  Oh!  Then  that  explains  it.  I 
thought  there  must  be  something. 

Lady  Mah.     No,  it  doesn't   explain   it.     She 


34  BODY  AND  SOUL 

didn't  know  for  at  least  a  fortnight  after  she'd 
met  him. 

Blanche.  How  thrilling  it  must  be  to  be 
confidential  secretary  to  some  one  like  Lady  Mab. 

Lady  Mah.     You  can  have  it. 

Blanche  [swrprw^cZ].  Is  that  so?  Well,  of 
course,  it  must  cost  you  a  lot  for  clothes. 

Lady  Mah  [flf  a  loss  for  a  moment;  then,  com- 
preJiending'].  Oh,  I  see.  You  mean  these.  She 
gives  me  all  the  clothes  she's  tired  of.  They  fit 
me. 

Blanche.  And  evidently  she's  soon  tired  of 
them. 

Lady  Mah  {in  a  new  tone^.  I  say — may  I  ask 
your  name? 

Blanche.     Blanche  Nixon. 

Lady  Mah.    Miss? 

Blanche.     Oh,  quite. 

Lady  Mah.  Well,  Miss  Nixon.  You  said  just 
now  you  were  very  interested  in  the  question  of 
multiple  personality. 

Blanche.    Did  I? 

Lady  Mah.     Yes,  to  Mr.  Draper. 

Blanche.     Did  you  hear  us  talking? 

Lady  Mah.  I  came  into  the  room.  But  you 
two  were  so  busy  over  the  typewriter  you  didn't 
notice  me  and  I  went  out  again. 

Blanche.     I  hope  the  machine  will  please  you. 

Lady  Mah  {impatiently^.  Oh!  I  don't  care 
a  button  about  the  machine. 


ACT  I  35 

Blanche.     But  shan't  yon  have  to  use  it? 

Lady  Mah  [^recovering  her  mistake~\.  Yes,  yes. 
But  I  can  use  any  old  machine.  How  about  tliis 
question  of  multiple  personality?  Lady  Mab  also 
is  deeply  interested  in  it — ^very   deeply. 

Blanche  [with  gush^.  I  think  it  is  more  ex- 
citing than  anything  else  in  the  world. 

Lady  Mab.     You  have  studied  it? 

Blanche.  I've  read  Procopo*s  pamphlet  about 
the  exchange  of  personalities. 

Lady  Mah.  But  Procopo's  pamphlet  has 
never  been  published.  It  was  only  issued  for 
private  circulation. 

Blanche.  Yes,  but  you  may  remember  that 
Lady  Mab  sent  the  manuscript  to  our  place  to  be 
typewritten  for  the  printers.  I  copied  it.  No- 
body else  in  the  office  could  make  out  the  manu- 
script. 

Lady  Mah.  Really,  this  is  most  romantic. 
[With  a  movement  towards  Blanche.^  You  and 
I  seem  to  be  kindred  spirits,  Miss  Nixon. 

Blanche.     How  kind  of  you  to  say  so. 

Lady  Mab.  But  we  are,  aren't  we?  At  first 
sight. 

Blanche.    I'm  convinced  of  it. 

Lady  Mab.     My  name's  Crane — Kitty  Crane. 

Blanche.    Yes,  I  know.    A  charming  name. 

Lady  Mah.     How  did  you  know? 

Blanche.  You  wrote  to  us  for  Lady  Mab 
about  the  typewriters. 


36  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Lady  Mob.  Of  course  I  did!  May  I  talk 
frankly  to  you? 

Blanche,     Oh,  please  do ! 

Lady  Mah.  It's  about  Lady  Mab.  You  know 
she  and  I  are  more  companions  than  employer 
and  secretary.  She  tells  me  everything.  .  .  . 
She's  not  at  all  happy. 

Blanche.  That's  her  engagement,  of  course. 
Oirls  seldom  are  happy  just  after  they  become 
engaged.  They're  apt  to  lie  awake  at  nights 
wondering  whether  they've  bitten  off  more  than 
they  can  chew — if  you  understand  me. 

Lady  Mah.     Perfectly. 

Blanche.  And  I  suppose  that  Lady  Mab's 
like  other  girls,  after  all. 

Lady  Mah.  She  is,  only  more  so.  She's  a 
strange  creature. 

Blanche   [^sighs^.     We  all  are,  aren't  we? 

Lady  Mab.  She's  tried  so  many  things.  She's 
nursed  in  the  war.  She's  organised  dozens  of 
charity  fetes.  She  plays  the  piano  and  the  harp. 
She  sings.  She  paints.  She  does  social  work. 
She  even  does  journalism.  She  recites.  She 
dances.  She  writes  plays — ^little  ones.  She 
acts 

Blanche.     But  nothing  professionally! 

Lady  Mah.  Oh,  no.  An  amateur.  And  she 
just  hates  being  an  amateur. 

Blanche.  How  I  know  the  feeling!  I  used  to 
be  a  regular  all-round  amateur  myself. 


ACT  I  37 

Lady  Mob.    Indeed ! 

Blanche.  Yes.  I  was  a  school  teacher  in 
Warrington. 

Lady  Mab.     Warrington !     Never  heard  of  it ! 

Blanclw.  I  dare  say.  But  Warrington  exists. 
It  has  schools.  I  taught  in  one  of  them.  I  had 
to  teach  geography,  history,  spelling,  sewing, 
arithmetic,  cookery,  some  mild  religion,  manners, 
hygiene,  and  twenty  other  subjects.  And  I 
was  an  amateur  in  all  of  them,  except  possibly 
combing  vermin  out  of  cliildren's  hair.  Being 
high  up  in  this  business  of  educating  the  future 
mothers  of  the  Imperial  race,  I  got  just  over  two 
pounds  a  week,  and  I  only  had  to  work  about 
tliirteen  hours  a  day.  The  Teachers'  Union 
demanded  a  decent  war  bonus,  and  the  Borough 
Education  Committee  said  it  couldn't  afford  the 
money.  When  the  Borough  scavengers  struck 
for  four  pounds  a  week  and  got  it — well,  I  left 
Warrington  and  came  to  London  to  be  a  pro- 
fessional, and,  by  heaven,  I  am  one  at  last. 

Lady  Mab,  A  professional  what,  you  adorable 
thing? 

Blanche.  A  professional  seller  of  typewriters. 
...  I  only  tell  you  all  this  to  show  that  I  un- 
derstand pretty  well  how  Lady  Mab  feels.  But 
she's  rich.     I've  never  had  that  feeling. 

Lady  Mab.  Not  so  rich.  She  really  spends  a 
great  deal.  Never  thinks  about  money.  Not  in- 
terested in  it.     In  spite  of  her  engagement  she's 


38  BODY  AND  SOUL 

haunted  all  the  time  by  the  idea  that  she  hasn't 
fulfilled  herself.  She  wants  an  aim.  That's  why 
she's  so  taken  up  with  these  questions  of  human 
consciousness,  individuality,  and  so  on.  That's 
why  she's  spent  so  much  on  Procopo — making  his 
position. 

Blanche.     Has  she? 

Ladi/  Mab.  Oh,  yes.  Pretty  nearly  ruined 
herself. 

Blanche.     I  could  do  with  her  sort  of  ruin. 

Ladi/  Mah  Ysolem7dy'\.  Would  you  care  to 
meet  Procopo? 

Blanche.  More  than  anything.  He  must  be 
marvellous. 

Lady  Mah.  He  is  astounding!  Come  here  to- 
night at  nine,  and  you  shall  see  him.  That  was 
what  I  wanted  to  ask  you.  .  .  .  There  may  be 
a  seance. 

Blanche.  But  what  will  Lady  Mab  say?  She 
won't  care  to  have  a  girl  like  me  here.  Pm  a 
stranger. 

Lady  Mah.  She  would  like  a  stranger.  And 
Lady  Mab's  a  democrat  of  democrats,  believe  me. 
Wliat's  more,  I  told  her  what  I  heard  you  saying 
to  Mr.  Draper,  and  she  immediately  asked  me  to 
ask  you.  She's  like  that.  She's  sick  of  her  own 
set. 

Blanclie.  But  what  will  happen  at  the 
seance.'^ 


ACT  I  39 

Lady  Mab  \_mysteriousl7/^.  Who  knows?  Any- 
thing maj'^  happen. 

Blanche.     I'll  come. 

Lady  Mah.  That's  sweet  of  you.  Well,  to- 
night at  nine,  then. 

Blanche.  Thank  you.  By  the  way,  shall  I 
take  the  cheque. 

Lady  Mab.    The  cheque? 

Blanche.  For  the  typewriter.  You  see,  it's 
supposed  to  be  a  cash  transaction,  and  they're 
very  strict  at  the  office. 

Lady  Mab  [after  a  pause'].  Certainly.  I'll 
get  Lady  Mab  to  sign  it  at  once,  if  you'll  excuse 
me  for  a  moment.     Sixty-five  pounds,  you  said. 

Blanche.    Guineas. 

Lady  Mab  [at  tJie  door].  I'm  sure  you'll  find 
to-night  frightfully  interesting.  Lady  Mab's  a 
bit  of  a  devil.  lExit.] 

[Enter  Edith.] 

Edith.  Please,  Miss  Nixon,  I  can't  find  the 
way  downstairs. 

Blanche.     But  the  lift's  next  door. 

Edith.    Somehow  I  daren't  ring  for  it. 

Blanche  [after  staring  at  her].  Well,  put  the 
cover  on  that  typewriter. 

Edith.  Yes,  Miss  Nixon.  Then  you  did  the 
business,  Miss  Nixon? 

Blanche.  I  did.  And  I'm  waiting  for  the 
cheque. 


40  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Edith.  And  did  you  find  out  their  fads  and 
what  pleases  them? 

Blanche.    I  did. 

Edith.  And  did  you  make  them  think  it 
pleased  you? 

Blanche.    I  did.    And  I  say,  Edith! 

Edith.    Yes,  Miss  Nixon? 

Blanche.  Perhaps  I  shan't  be  at  the  office  to- 
morrow.    It's  not  sure. 

Edith.     Why? 

Blanche.  Well,  as  I  said  when  we  came  in, 
'T-  one  thing  leads  to  another.     And 

Edith.     Well,  Miss  Nixon? 

Blanche  [with  an  outhurstl^.  Oh!  I'm  more 
^-    than  a  bit  of  a  devil,  Edith. 

CUETAIN 


ACT  II 


SCENE  I 


Same  scene  as  Act  I. 
Time:   The  same  evening.  Lady  Mab  and  Aaron. 

Aaron.  Look  here,  Mab,  a  little  madness  is 
a  very  fine  thing,  and  I  wish  I  had  more  of  it 
myself;  but  tliis  notion  knocks  spots  off  the  mad- 
dest of  all  your  society  stunts  and  crazes.  More- 
over, it  can't  possibly  succeed.  It  can't  even 
begin  to  succeed.  No !  Do  you  seriously  think 
that  you  can  palm  off  Miss  Blanche  Nixon  as 
Lady  Mab  Infold? 

Lady  Mab.     I  don't  see  why  not? 

Aaron.  Then  I  will  proceed  to  enlighten  you. 
The  chambermaid  would  have  to  be  squared  for 
a  start.  You  can't  square  a  chambermaid — at 
least  not  effectively.  The  whole  hotel  would  be 
buzzing  with  the  thing  about  five  minutes  after 
you'd  sworn  the  chambermaid  to  everlasting 
secrecy. 

Lady  Mah.  My  darling  little  Aaron,  do  you 
seriously  think  that  I  am  a  damned  idiot  and 

41 


42  BODY  AND  SOUL 

that  I  haven't  worked  out  the  details?  I  shan't 
square  the  chambermaid.  I  shall  simply  ask  the 
manager — to  whom  my  paths  drop  fatness — 
I  shall  simply  ask  him  to  make  a  transfer  of 
chambermaids  and  give  me  one  from  the  seventh 
floor.  That  lofty  girl  won't  know  me  from  Eve. 
She's  passed  her  life  on  the  seventh  floor.  Hap- 
pily I  never  could  stand  having  a  maid  of  my 
own,  and  when  I've  wanted  a  maid  I've  always 
used  Kitty  Crane.  Kitty's  away  ill.  So  sJie^s 
safe.  The  fact  is  that  no  place  is  more  private 
than  a  very  big  hotel.  Blanche  Nixon  and  I  wil? 
leave  the  hotel  perfectly  openly  to-morrow.  True, 
the  porters  will  salute  us,  but  how  can  any  porter 
be  aware  that   she's  me   and   I'm  her  secretary.'^ 

Aaron.  Leave  the  hotel .'^  Where  are  you  go- 
ing to.f* 

Ladi/  Mob.  To  Staffordshire,  of  course,  to 
lay  the  foundation-stone  of  that  Municipal  Health 
Institute  at  Bursley  the  day  after  to-morrow. 

Aaron  {^astovrnded'].  Miss  Nixon  as  you;  and 
you  as  her  secretary! 

Lady  Mab.  Such  is  my  intention.  I'm  hiring 
a  car,  to  pick  us  up  at  Piccadilly  Circus.  Safer. 
We  shall  sleep  at  Stafford. 

Aaron  [^after  roaring  with  laughterl.  But  my 
divine  lunatic,  it  will  be  useless  for  you  to  try 
to  play  the  secretary.  You'll  be  recognised  at 
once. 

Lady  Mab.    How.? 


ACT  n  43 

Aaron.  Well,  from  photographs.  The  Daily 
Mirror  circulates  even  in  Staffordshire. 

Lcdy  Mah.  Innocent!  Nobody  ever  recog- 
nises anybody  from  photographs — at  any  rate 
not  Press  photographs.  Did  you  recognise  me 
when  you  first  met  me  in  the  lift?  Did  Blanche 
Nixon  recognise  me  this  morning.''  The  thing's 
impossible.  Blanche  Nixon's  just  about  my  age 
and  build  and  complexion,  and  that's  enough. 
As  for  me,  I  shall  arrange  myself  a  little  for  the 
secretarial  role  in  some  of  Kitty's  clothes.  No- 
body knows  me  in  Bursley.  They  only  asked  me 
to  lay  the  foundation-stone  because  they  knew  it 
would  be  a  good  advertisement  for  their  Institute. 

Aaron.  And  Procopo  is  coming  to-night  to 
engineer  this  enormous  swindle.''  Then  he'll  have 
to  admit  that  he's  a  common  fraud. 

Lady  Mah.  Not  at  all.  And  I'm  not  yet  con- 
vinced that  he  is  a  common  fraud. 

Aaron.     You  were  convinced  this  morning. 

Lady  Mah.  But  he  came  to  see  me  this  after- 
noon, and  he's  unconvinced  me  again.  Procopo 
is  marvellous.  After  all,  it  might  have  happened 
to  any  spiritualist  to  be  sentenced  by  a  pack  of 
provincial  magistrates  for  fortune-telling.  Pro- 
vincial magistrates  are  just  like  High  Court 
judges — they  love  to  see  themselves  in  the  papers. 
Procopo  was  very  impressive  to-day.  He  quite 
seriously  believes  that  he  may  be  able  to  change 
the   individualities    of    two    bodies,    and   transfer 


44>  BODY  AND  SOUL 

A's  individuality  to  B's  body,  and  B's  individ- 
uality to  A's  body.  He's  going  to  make  a  tre- 
mendous experiment  to-^ight,  and  he  actually 
thinks  he'll  succeed! 

Aaron  \liumorously  warning^.  If  he  did  you'd 
be  Blanche  Nixon,  incidentally. 

Lady  Mah.  No.  I  should  still  be  me,  but 
I  should  be  in  Blanche  Nixon's  body.  I  should 
love  it.  We'd  take  a  flat  at  Walham  Green  and 
live  happily  ever  after. 

Aaron.  But  I  don't  want  to  marry  Blanche 
Nixon's  body. 

Lady  Mah.    Not  with  me  inside  it.'' 

Aaron.    No! 

Lady  Mah.  You're  a  bit  difficult.  However, 
you  needn't  worry.  Of  course  Procopo  won't 
succeed,  really.     But  /  shall  succeed. 

Aaron.    What  do  you  mean.? 

Lady  Mah.  You'll  admit  Procopo  can  hypno- 
tise. 

Aaron.  Oh,  yes.  I  suppose  he  can  hypnotise 
all  right. 

Lady  Mah.  He  will  put  Blanche  Nixon  to 
sleep,  and  she  won't  wake  up  till  to-morrow 
morning;  and  when  she  does  wake  up  she'll  find 
herself  in  my  bed,  and  what's  more  in  my 
pyjamas,  and  I  shall  go  in  and  talk  as  if  she 
was  Lady  Mab  and  me  her  secretarj^  and  she'll 
believe  I  think  she  is  Lady  IMab.  Her  mind  will 
have  been  prepared,  you  see. 


ACT  n  45 

Aaron.  She  won't  believe  any  such  thing. 
She's  not  such  a  fool.     She's  jolly  clever. 

Lady  Mah.  Yes,  she's  jolly  clever.  But 
she's  simply  saturated  with  this  theory  of  the 
exchange  of  individualities  between  bodies — I 
had  two  long  talks  with  her — and  she'll  believe 
it  quick  enough.  I'm  jolly  clever,  too,  in  my 
small  way,  and  didn't  I  rather  accept  the  theor}'? 
All   jolly   clever  people  believe   something. 

Aaron.  And  what  about  Procopo.''  He'll 
be  coming  along  in  the  morning  to  see  the  result 
of  his  experiment. 

Lady  Mah.     We  shall  be  gone. 

Aaron.     I\Iab,  3'ou're  an  unmitigated  humbug. 

Lady  Mah.  I'm  not — not  unmitigated  an}'- 
how. 

Aaron.     And  how  is  the  affair  to  end? 

Lady  Mah.  I  don't  know  and  I  don't  care. 
My  motto  is — Live  dangerously. 

Aaron.  I  had  enough  of  living  dangerously 
at  Ypres.  The  thing's  bound  to  come  out,  and 
then  there^l  Jbe  a  scandal,  and  how  are  you  go- 
ing to  explain  it.'' 

Lady  Mah.  Dear  youth,  if  you'd  been  on  the 
inside  of  politics  as  I  have,  you'd  know  that  any- 
thing can  be  explained. 

Aaron  [seriously  and  positively"].  Well,  I  told 
you  this  morning  I  wouldn't  permit  it.  And  I 
will  not.     Is  that  clear? 

Lady  Mah  [seriously].     Quite.     But  you  will 


46 


BODY  AND  SOUL 


have  to  permit  it.  I  gave  in  to  you  in  everything 
this  morning,  and  do  you  think  I  couldn't  see 
you  despised  me  for  it?  I'm  not  going  to  give 
in  to-night.  I've  always  done  what  I  liked,  and 
everybody's  always  helped  me  to  do  what  I  liked. 
And  I  mean  to  have  one  more  fling  before  I  set- 
tle down.  And  you're  not  going  to  sulk.  And 
you're  not  going  to  break  off  the  engagement. 
You're  going  to  play  the  game. 

Aaron    [^relenting'\.      You    may    well    call    it 
"game." 

Ladi/  Mab  [with  feelmg'\.  It's  not  a  game. 
It's  not  a  lark.  It's  more  than  a  lark.  You 
were  all  criticism  of  me  this  morning;  and  I  felt 
it;  and  I  do  want  to  see  whether  somebody  else, 
somebody  as  clever  as  I  am,  will  be  as  big  a  fool 
as  I  am  in  my  place.  I  can't  argue  any  more. 
Do  let  me  settle  down — like  a  dove  on  your 
manly  shoulders.  You  horrid  darling'!  \^SJie 
puts  her  arms  on  his  shoulders.^ 
[Enter  Waiter.'^ 

Waiter.     Mr.  Procopo  is  waiting  in  the  hall, 
my  lady.     Shall  he  be  shown  up.'' 

Aaron.     He  shall. 


CURTAIN 


SCENE  II 

Time:    The  same  evening.    Lady  Mah,  Blanche, 
Aaron,    and  Procopo. 

Procopo  \^at  the  side  of  the  room^.  Is  this 
the  lamp  switch,  dear  Miss  Crane? 

Labu  Mah.    Yes. 

Procopo.     And  this  is  the  chandelier  switch? 

Lady  Mah.     Yes. 

Procopo.  Bolt  the  door,  please.  {Lady  Mah 
holts  the  door.^ 

Procopo   [to  Blanche^.     Listen  to  me. 

Blanche  [with  an  appearance  of  ecstasy^.  I 
am  listening. 

Procopo.    You  agree  to  this  experiment? 

Blanche.     Willingly.     Eagerly. 

Procopo.  You  know  I  do  not  guarantee  its 
success? 

Blanche.    I  do. 

Procopo.  You  know  that  if  the  experiment 
succeeds  your  soul  will  issue  from  its  present  body 
and  inhabit  another? 

Blanche.     Yes,  yes.     Lady  Mab's. 

Procopo.  It  may  be.  You  can  conceive  and 
47 


48  BODY  AND  SOUL 

foresee  the  inconveniences  of  the  change.  You 
accept  them?     All  of  them? 

Blanche.  Inconveniences  of  Lady  Mab's  body 
and  identity? 

Procopo.    Yes. 

Blanche.     I  accept  them  gladly. 

Procopo.  I  warn  you  that  if  the  experiment 
succeeds  you  yourself  will  probably  be  unaware 
of  any  bodily  change.  While  others  see  you  in 
the  flesh  of  Lady  Mab,  you  will  look  in  the  glass 
and  see  what  you  imagine  to  be  Blanche  Nixon. 
This  unawareness  of  any  bodily  change  on  your 
part  will  be  due  to  the  absolute  perfection  of 
the  adjustment  between  the  soul  and  the  new 
body. 

Blanche.  Oh !  .  .  .  But  surely,  as  Miss  Crane 
here  is  to  see  the  experiment  she  will  know  when 
it  is  over  that  I  am  really  Blanche  Nixon  in 
Lady  Mab's  bod}^,  and  things  may  be  a  little 
awkward.     As  for  Mr.  Draper 

Procopo.  Child,  do  not  attempt  to  instruct 
me.  Everything  has  been  thought  of.  Later,  I 
shall  put  Miss  Crane  to  sleep,  and  erase  from  her 
mind  all  memory  of  to-night. 

Blanche.     I  beg  pardon. 

Procopo.  In  all  that  I  have  told  you  I  am 
assuming,  of  course,  the  complete  success  of  the 
experiment.  There  is  an  alternative.  The  ex- 
periment may  fail  completely.  In  which  case  no 
change  whatever  will  occur,  and  everything  will 


ACT  II  49 

remain  as  it  now  is.  [More  sternly.']  There  is 
another  alternative.  The  experiment  may  suc- 
ceed, but  onl}^  partially.  In  which  case,  at  the 
worst,  a  soul — perhaps  two  souls — may  be  ren- 
dered homeless.  Do  you  of  your  own  free  will 
face  such  a  possibility.'' 

Blanche  [with  a  courageous  air].     I  do. 

Procopo.    Are  you  ready? 

Blanche.  I  should  like  to  ask  two  questions. 
Miss  Crane  told  me  when  I  came  in  that  Lady 
3Iab  was  already  asleep  under  your  influence. 

Procopo.     Ah!     Miss  Crane  told  j^ou  that? 

Blanche.  Where  is  Lady  Mab  now?  I  have 
not  seen  her. 

Procopo  [sternly].  And  why  should  you  see 
her?  It  is  essential  that  you  should  not  see  her. 
As  to  her  position  in  space,  it  has  no  relevance. 
We  are  about  to  quit  the  material  world  of  three 
dimensions. 

Blanche.    I  understand. 

Procopo.     Your  second  question? 

Blanche.  Will  the  experiment,  if  it  succeeds, 
have  a  permanent  result,  or  shall  I  eventually 
return  to  my  own  body?     If  so,  when? 

Procopo  [more  sternly].  Who  can  tell?  I 
cr.nnot.  I  am  only  a  seeker.  We  are  challeng- 
ir.g  the  most  mysterious  and  terrible  phenomena. 
You  are  afraid? 

Blanche.     No.     I  am  not. 


50  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Procopo.    Then  are  you  ready? 

Blanche.     Yes. 

Procopo.  Go  and  lie  down  on  the  sofa. 
{Blanche  oheys.l  Put  your  arms  by  your  sides. 
Are  you  comfortable? 

Blanche.    Yes. 

Procopo  [moving  to  the  switches'].  First  I 
shall  put  you  into  a  hypnotic  sleep.  [He  turns 
off  the  chandelier  light,  making  the  room  quite 
dark.  He  then  turns  on  a  small  shaded  lamp 
over  the  head  of  the  sofa.]  Gaze  steadily  at  the 
lamp  above  your  head.  [He  approaches  the 
sofa.]  Gaze  steadily.  Steadily.  Sleep.  [He 
makes  passes.]  Sleep.  Do  not  rebel,  for  I  will 
not  have  it.  Sleep.  Slip  gently  imperceptibly 
into  unconsciousness.  Your  eyes  are  closing. 
They  are  shut.  You  are  in  the  pre-hypnoidal 
state,  [A  pause.]  Listen.  You  will  not  awake 
until  to-morrow  morning  in  full  daylight.  [He 
turns  away  from  her.]     She  is  asleep. 

Lady  Mab.     Already? 

Procopo.  I  have  never  failed  to  produce  hyp- 
nosis in  a  normal  subject.  Which  is  your  bed- 
room? 

Lady  Mab.    My  bedroom? 

Procopo  [with  emphasis].  The  secretary's 
bedroom,  Miss  Crane. 

Lady  Mab  [pointing  l.].    Here. 

Procopo.     Go  and  light  the  bed-lamp  —  the 


ACT  II  61 

bed-lamp  only  —  and  prepare  the  bed  for  the 
night.     Go!     I  will  deal  with  j^ou  afterwards. 
l^Exit  Lady  MabS\ 

Procopo  [to  Aaroii\.  I  shall  not  have  strength 
to  spare  to  put  a  third  person  to  sleep,  even  if 
you  consented  to  submit  to  hypnosis 

Aaron  [^interrupting^.     Which  I  do  not. 

Procopo.  I  therefore  count  upon  you  to  for- 
get utterly  all  that  you  are  witnessing  to-night. 
Indeed  I  only  consented  to  your  presence  on 
that  understanding.  For  a  chance  word  from 
you  to-morrow  to  either  of  these  ladies  might 
bring  incalculable  consequences. 

Aaron.  That's  all  right.  I'll  say  this  for  you ; 
you're  a  fraud,  but  you're  a  pretty  impressive 
fraud. 

Procopo  [calmly^.  The  experiment  will  take 
eight  hours  to  complete.  Until  to-morrow  morn- 
ing you  have  not  the  least  right  to  assume  that 
I  am  even  a  failure,  to  say  nothing  of  a  fraud. 

Aaron.  But,  my  friend,  you're  being  a  fraud 
all  the  time. 

Procopo  [mildly^.    How.'' 

Aaron.  In  pretending  to  Miss  Nixon  that 
Lady  Mab  is  only  Lady  Mab's  secretary.  You're 
carrying  on  quite  solemnly  the  hoax  that  Lady 
Mab  began  in  mere  fun. 

Procopo  [with  a  pitying  smilel.  My  dear  sir, 
I  beg  you  not  to  confuse  trifles  with  fundamen- 
tals.    The    harmless    and    justifiable    imposture 


52  BODY  AND  SOUL 

practised  upon  Miss  Nixon  first  by  the  admirable 
Lady  Mab,  and  then  by  me  at  Lady  Mab's  ur- 
gent request,  is  quite  foreign  to  my  experiment. 
It  may  just  possiblj'  help  the  experiment,  for 
the  reason  that  success  is  more  likely  if  Miss 
Nixon  remains  ignorant  of  the  ph^^'sical  identity 
of  the  body  into  which  she  is  to  pass.  But  the 
little  imposture  is  on  an  entirely  different  plane 
from  my  sublime  experiment.  And  no  truly  log- 
ical mind  could  argue  from  the  one  to  the  other. 

Aaron.     Indeed! 

Procopo.     You're  a  chemist,  I  believe. 

Aaron.    Yes. 

Procopo.     Therefore  a  man  of  science. 

Aaron.    I  hope  so. 

Procopo  [^dispassionateli^^.  Then  act  like  a 
man  of  science.  I  am  confronting  you  with 
phenomena  as  to  which  your  ignorance  is  evi- 
dently complete.  The  greatest  men  of  science 
have  hitherto  in  such  circumstances  adopted  an 
attitude  of  humility,  of  caution,  of  agnosticism 
if  you  like;  but  they  have  never  dogmatised,  for 
dogmatism  is  vanity.  To  call  me  a  fraud  at  this 
stage  is  mere  dogmatism,  worthy  of  a  supersti- 
tious savage,  unworthy  of  a  man  of  science. 
l^Entcr  Lady  Mah.^ 

Lady  Mab.     Everything  is  ready. 

Aaron  \to  Procopo^.     Go  ahead. 

Procopo  [turning  to  Blanche],    In  your  sleep 
can  you  hear  me  distinctly? 


ACT  II  53 

Blanche.    Yes. 

Procopo.  Your  bod}^  will  staj^  with  you  yet 
awhile.  But  forget  it.  Dissociate  yourself  from 
it.  Loosen  gently  the  bonds  of  that  flesh.  Seek 
quietly  the  fourth  dimension.  Do  no  more.  Do 
not  attempt  to  help  me,  for  you  cannot.  I  am 
the  master,  and  you  are  the  captive.  Open  your 
eyes.  [^Blanche  does  so.]  Now  that  you  have 
opened  your  e3^es  you  are  still  asleep.    Answer. 

Blanche  [^dreamily^.     Yes. 

Procopo.  When  I  raise  my  hand  high — not 
before — rise  from  the  sofa.  Go  into  the  room 
which  I  have  in  mind.  Undress.  Get  into  bed. 
Turn  out  the  lamp.  And  forget  everything  ex- 
cept what  I  have  told  you.  You  can  hear  noth- 
ing. You  can  see  nothing  except  my  hand.  [To 
Lady  Mab.^  Miss  Crane,  as  soon  as  Miss  Nixon 
has  left  the  sofa  you  will  be  good  enough  to  take 
her  place  and  your  part  in  the  experiment. 
\_Procopo  turns  to  Blanche  and  raises  his  hand, 

high.     Blanche  rises.Ji 

l^Blanche  goes  towards  door,  l.,  somnamhulistic- 

ally,  and  Lady  Mab   takes  her  place.     As 

Blanche  passes  Aaron,  who  is  now  standing 

near  the  door,  she  deliberately  winks  at  him.^ 

Blanche  [murmuring  in  Lancashire  accent  to 
Aaron  as  she  winlcs^.     I'm  fair  in  it. 
[Aaron  gives  a  gesture  and  instantly  controls  him- 
self.'] 

CURTAIN 


^ 


SCENE  III 

Time:  The  next  Titorning.     Breakfast  is  served. 
Lady  Mab,  in  a  secretary's  frock,  is  arranging 

letters    and   newspapers    on    an    occasional 

table  near  the  breakfast-table. 
Enter  Blanche,  in  a  magnificent  dressing-gown, 

of  which  her  gestures  show  her  appreciation. 

BlancJie  [secretly  nervous^.  Well,  what's  to- 
day's programme,  Kitty  my  girl? 

Lady  Mab  {blenching  under  the  familiarity; 
tJien  with  great  gaiety^.  Good  morning,  m — my 
lady.  Well,  nothing,  except,  of  course,  that  we 
have  to  leave  in  the  car  at  a  quarter  to  eleven 
this  morning  en  route  for  Bursley  for  the  founda- 
tion-stone laying  to-morrow. 

Blanche  [weakly^.  Ah,  yes.  The  foundation- 
stone  laying. 

Lady  Mab.  Nothing  but  travelling  to-day, 
unless,  of  course,  your  ladyship  wants  to  go 
through  your  speech.  It's  being  greatly  looked 
forward  to — I  know  that. 

Blanche  {staggered,  but  controlling  herself]. 
You're  very  gay.  What  is  being  greatly  looked 
forward  to? 

54 


ACT  II  55 

Lady  Mob  [with  contmued  good  humour^. 
Your  speech,  my  lady. 

[Note.      Lady  Mab   is,   of   course,    throughout 
pretending    ignorance    of    the    fact     that 
Blanche  is  not  Lady  Mab:  but  she  is  not 
aware   that  Blanclie  is   aware  of   this   pre- 
tence, and  that  Blanclie  is  all  the  time  out- 
deceivimg  lier  deception.     The  acting  of  the 
parts  should  emphasise  tlie  reality  of  tJie  sit- 
uation  to   the   audience   by   meams   of  ges- 
tures and  intonations.^ 
Blanche.    The  deuce  it  is!     [With  resolution.~\ 
Well,  when  I  have  delivered  it,  it  will  be  greatly 
looked  back  upon,  believe  me. 

Lady  Mab.  Your  ladyship  told  me  to  order  a 
car  to  meet  us  at  Piccadilly  Circus,  as  you  wished 
to  avoid  reporters  seeing  j-ou  off,  if  possible. 

Blanche.  To  avoid  reporters.''  Quite  right. 
Quite  right. 

Lady  Mab.  But  I've  been  thinking — what 
about  the  luggage.'*  How  are  we  to  get  it  to  Pic- 
cadilly Circus  without  taking  a  taxi  from  here, 
which  would  excite  remark.'' 

Blanche.  Take  a  taxi  here !  Certainlj^  not.  I 
want  to  sneak  out.  You  must  order  another  car 
to  come  here  for  the  luggage  and  let  it  go  direct 
to  Staffordshire.     Quite  simple. 

Lady  Mab  [suddenly  less  gay'].  Very  expen- 
sive— two  cars  all  the  way  to  Staffordshire. 

Blanche  [benevolently].  What  do  I  care?  Let 
money  circulate. 


56  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Lady  Mah  ^somewhat  serious^.  But  your 
ladj^sliip  knows 

Blanche.     Yes,  she  knows. 

Lady  Mah  {with  forced  good  humour^.  Here 
are  the  newspajjers. 

Blanche.     I  don't  want  to  see  the  papers. 

Lady  Mah.  But  your  ladyship  alwa^'s  begins 
with  the  papers. 

Blanche  {solemnly^.  Kitty,  ^^ou  forget  that 
everytliing  is  changed. 

Lady  Mah.     Changed.'' 

Blanche.  Yes.  I'm  engaged.  And  I  can  only 
think  of  one  thing — my  beloved  Aaron. 

Lady  Mah  {startled^.     Er — 3'es. 

Blanche.  But  you  might  just  see  what  the  end 
of  the  Daily  Mail  serial  is  to-day.  We  had  a  bet 
at  the  office — {correcting  herself^ — the  Foreign 
Office.  {Lady  Mah  semi-hysterically  snatches  iip 
the  Daily  Mail.]     About  Enid,  the  heroine. 

Lady  Mah  {reading  unevenly^.  "The  baronet 
stood  on  the  steps  of  his  club  in  the  darkness, 
gnashing  his  teeth." 

Blanche.  Thank  God  he  was  foiled!  {Sitting 
dozen  to  eat.^  Come  along,  Kitty,  do  swallow 
something.     You  look  terribly  pale. 

Lady  Mah  {oheying.  As  she  sits^.  Now  the 
impromptus — {tabmg  up  some  notes^. 

Blanche.     The  impromptus.'' 

Lady  Mah.  The  impromptus  for  the  day.  As 
your  ladysliip  usually  prepares  them  before  do- 


ACT  n  57 

ing  anything  else,  so  as  to  be  on  the  safe  side,  I 
thought 

Blanche.  Of  course,  my  famous  impromptus. 
Have  you  got  anything  for  me? 

Lady  Mah.  Well,  I  think  this  might  be  use- 
ful. Some  one  said  it  to  Lloj'd  George,  but  it 
hasn't  got  about  yet.  "The  nineteenth  century 
was  the  transfer  of  the  vote.  The  twentieth  will 
be  the  transfer  of  profit."  Sums  up  two  hundred 
years  of  politics,  don't  you  think? 

Blanche  [a^r^/^/].  Not  bad!  Some  one's  bound 
to  ask  me  what  I  tliink  of  the  Labour  situation. 
Then  I  shall  say :  "I'll  tell  you  in  ten  words.  [As 
if  memorising  to  herself.^  Nineteenth — ^vote. 
Twentieth — profit.  Nineteenth — vote.  Twen- 
tieth— profit.     Anything  else? 

Lady  Mah.  Well,  here's  a  good  story:  "There 
once  was  an  old  lady  who  didn't  like  green  peas, 
and  she  said :  'I'm  glad  I  don't  like  green  peas  be- 
cause if  I  liked  them  I  should  eat  them,  and  I 
don't  like  them.' " 

Blanche  {laughing'].  Very  funny.  But,  you 
know,  I  don't  see  the  point. 

Lady  Mah.  Neither  do  I.  But  men  seem  to 
see  it.  And  it's  so  useful  because  you  can  change 
"green  peas"  to  simply  anything.  For  instance, 
when  coffee  is  served  you  can  say,  "Have  you 
ever  heard  the  story  about  the  old  lady  who 
didn't  like  coffee?" 

Blanche.     Could  I  work  it  into  my  speech? 


58  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Lady  Mob.    Of  course,  mj  lady. 

Blanche.  Weil,  no,  perhaps  I'd  better  keep  it 
for  an  impromptu.  It's  a  great  impromptu. 
Anything  else? 

Lady  Mob.  I've  found  the  finest  mine  of  im- 
promptus that  ever  was — "The  Note-Books  of 
Samuel  Butler." 

Blanche.  Samuel  Butler?  Have  I  heard  of 
him? 

Lady  Mah.  I  should  say  probably  not.  No- 
body has.  Here's  a  tiling  on  marriage.  Butler 
was  in  the  East,  and  some  Mohanmciedan  asked 
him  his  opinion  about  the  advantages  of  mar- 
riage compared  with  the  advantages  of  the — er — 
other  thing.  And  Butler  replied:  "In  England, 
oh  my  brother,  we  have  a  great  high-priest  called 
the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  and  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury  once  said:  'It  is  cheaper  to 
buy  the  milk  than  to  keep  a  cow.'  " 

Blanche  [solemnly'\.  Kitty,  have  you  forgot- 
ten that  I'm  engaged  to  be  married? 

Lady  Mah  [still  gay'\.  Ah!  But,  my  lady, 
you've  got  your  reputation  for  cynicism  to  keep 
up.     That  story  would  help  it. 

Blanche.  So  it  would.  ...  I  tliink  that'll  be 
enough  impromptus  for  one  day. 

Lady  Mah  [turning  to  the  day^s  letters}. 
Shall  we  go  through  the  letters  then?  [Tearing 
open  a  packet.']     Here  are  the  press-cuttings. 

Blanche  [taking  them  indifferently,  and  glanc- 


ACT  II  59 

ing  at  th^vi].  I  don't  think  I'll  bother  with  these 
green  things. 

Lady  Mab  [^zeith  astonished  hilarity^.  Not 
read  jour  press-cuttings,  my  lady  I  l^CalmlT/.l 
Very  well.     \_SJie  begins  to  cut  envelopes  opeii.^ 

Bla/nche.     What  are  you  doing,  my  good  girl? 

Lady  Mab.  Don't  I  always  open  your  letters 
for  3'ou? 

Blanche.  Yes.  But  I  keep  on  reminding  you 
that  I'm  engaged  now,  and  obviously  things  are 
not  quite  the  same.  Give  me  the  letters.  \^She 
begins  to  open  the  letters  herself.  While  doing 
so,  she  continues  talking. J  Curious  maid  came 
in  to  see  me  this  morning.     Called  me  "miss." 

Lady  Mab.  Oh !  I'll  speak  to  the  manager. 
But  I  think  the  girl's  new  to  this  floor.  And  as 
I've  pointed  out  to  your  ladyship  before,  these 
little  accidents  are  bound  to  happen  so  long  as 
your  ladyship  absolutely  refuses  to  keep  a  maid 
of  her  own.  Not  that  I've  the  slightest  objec- 
tion to  acting  as  your  ladyship's  maid  at  any  time. 

Blanche  [^still  glancing  at  letters^.  No  maid 
of  my  own !  Well,  I  think  I  shall  get  one  now, 
seeing  that  I'm  engaged.  I  say,  has  it  ever  stiTick 
you  what  funny  names  my  friends  baptise  them- 
selves with?  [^Quoting  from  letters.^  "Spoon- 
ey," "Raffles,'*  "Buncles,"  "Old  Tom,"  "Dar- 
lingest,"  "Mrs.  Wiggs,"  "Dearie."  All  congratu- 
lations! Oh!  And  "Tuppenny" — no  date,  no 
address.     Now  lot  me  sec,  who's  Tuppenny? 


60  BODY  AND  SO"UL 

Lady  Mob.  The  Dowager  Duchess  of  Dorset, 
my  lady,  your  Iadyshij>'s  second  cousm. 

Blanche.  Of  course.  Tuppenny,  the  Dowager 
Duchess  of  Dorset.  My  cousin.  Tuppenny.  .  ,  . 
Kitty,  I'm  not  quite  myself  this  morning,  am  I? 
Do  I  look  myself? 

Lady  Mab  [gailyl.  Oh!  Quite.  Why  do  you 
ask? 

Blanche.  I  don't  know.  I  don't  seem  to  be 
quite  myself.  I  had  a  bad  night.  Memory  gone. 
What  did  we  do  last  night? 

Lady  Mah.  Nothing.  We  went  rather  early 
to  bed. 

Blanche.  So  we  did.  I  seem  to  have  had  a 
sort  of  dream  of  being  carried  in  the  middle  of 
the  night  from  one  bed  to  another. 

Lady  Mob  [laughing^.  Oh!  What  a  funny 
dream ! 

Blanche.  Perhaps  it  was  the  pyjamas  that 
upset  me.  [Js  she  opens  letters.^  Congratula- 
tions. Congratulations.  Invitation.  Congratu- 
lations. Invitation.  You're  sure  I've  net  aged 
in  the  night? 

Lady  Mab.    Not  at  all. 

Blanche.  Just  telephone  to  Museum  one  three 
double  six — the  tj^pewriting  place,  you  know — 
and  inquire  if  Miss  Blanche  Nixon  has  arrived 
at  business  this  morning. 

Lady  Mah  [still  laughing^.  Oh!  That  woman! 
Yes,     Do  you  want  her  to  come  here? 


ACT  II  61 

Blanclie.  No.  I  onh'  -n-ant  to  know  if  she's 
arrived  at  business.  {^Referring  to  letters.^  Ah! 
BiU.     Oh!    Another  Bill!     Oh! 

Lady  Mab  [at  telephone^.  Museum  1366. 
Yes,  one  three  double  six.  .  .  .  Thanks.  [To 
Blanche.'\      Number   engaged. 

Blanclie.     I  thought  I  heard  a  voice. 

Lady  Mab.     Only  the  Exchange. 

Blanche  [still  looking  through  correspond- 
ence}. Well,  telephone  to  Mr.  Draper  and  ask 
him  to  come  and  see  me  at  once,  before  we  start. 

Lady  Mab.     Mr.  Draper.'^ 

Blanche.     My  Aaron. 

Lady  Mah.  Perhaps  your  ladyship  forgets 
that  you  particularly  told  him  last  night  he 
wasn't  to  come. 

Blanche.  Because  it  might  agitate  me  for  the 
journey.'' 

Lady  Mab.  Well — I'm  only  repeating  what 
you  said,  my  lady. 

Blanche.  It's  sweet  of  you  to  remind  me, 
Kitty,  but  last  night  was  last  night,  and  this 
morning  is  this  morning.  Get  me  the  number 
and  I'll  talk  to  him  myself. 

Lady  Mab    [at    telephone'}.      Mayfair,   eleven 
eleven.       Yes,     one,     one,     one,     one  .  .  .   [To 
Blanche.}     Number  engaged. 

Blanche.  How  queer!  Arc  odd  numbers  en- 
gaged as  well  as  even?     Kitty,  darling,  go  and 


62  BODY  AND  SOUL 

bring  me  my  dress,  will   you,   and  bring  those 
pyjamas  too. 

Lady  Mob  [^still  very  gay'}.     The  pyjamas? 

Blanche.  Yes.  I  want  to  decide  whether 
they're  really  fit  for  the  respectable  provinces. 

Lady  Mab.    Yes,  my  lady. 

\^Exit,  almost  dancing.} 

Blanche  [«t  telephone}.  Mayfair,  one,  one,  one, 
one.  l^Loohs  at  contents  of  a  big  envelope  while 
holding  the  line.}  Is  that  Mr.  Draper.?  It's  me 
— er — Mab.  I  can't  stop  to  talk  now.  I  want 
you  to  come  over  at  once.  Come  right  up  here. 
Will  you.'*  Thanks  so  much.  \^She  hangs  up  the 
recevver.  Lady  Mab  has  entered  with  clothes.} 
I  got  his  number  after  all,  and  he's  coming  now. 
You  were  entirely  right.  It  will  agitate  me.  But 
nature  is  so  strong.  \^Lady  MaVs  face  falls.} 
I  say,  what  can  tliis  rigmarole  here  be?  [^Hand- 
ing over  a  foolscap  document.} 

Lady  Mab  {^drops  clothes — the  pyjamas  are 
not  revealed}.    Mr.  Draper  is  coming — now! 

Blanche  [firmly  but  Mndly}.  Pull  yourself 
together,  my  girl.  You^re  dressed,  if  I'm  not. 
What  is  this? 

Lady  Blab  [pullvng  herself  together  and  look- 
ing at  the  docmnent}.  Why.  That's  your  speech 
for  the  ceremony  to-morrow. 

Blanche  [assumi/ng  full  knowledge}.  Of  course 
it  is. 

Lady  Mab.     Sir  Henry  has  run  it  very  fine 


ACT  II  63 

this  time.  In  fact  I  was  beginning  to  get 
alarmed 

Blanche.   Oh!    /wasn't. 

Lady  Mah.  No !  It's  true  he's  never  failed 
you  yet.  The  thing's  a  bit  long  and  windy. 
That's  always  Sir  Henry's  tendency,  isn't  it? 
But  your  ladyship  can  easily  shorten  it. 

Blanche  \wlw  has  tal-en  back  the  document'\. 
What's  this?  "In  conclusion  I  may  venture  to 
express  the  hope" — why  "venture  to  express  the 
hope"?  Why  not  simply  and  boldly  "hope"? 
Nothing  venturesome  in  expressing  hope,  is  there  ? 
"I  may  venture  to  express  the  hope  that  the  in- 
stitution whose  beginnings  we  are  witnessing  to- 
day will  serve  to  foster  that  good  feeling  be- 
tween the  different  classes  of  the  community  with 
their  different  functions  which  is  so  necessary 
to  the  welfare  of  the  Empire,  but  which  our  Bol- 
shevists and  Syndicalists  are  doing  their  best  to 
destroy."  Wliat  dreadful  twaddle!  Different 
functions  be  hanged!  Unless  he  means  that  the 
function  of  one  class  is  nobly  to  cook  the  meal 
and  wash  up,  and  the  fiinction  of  the  other  glo- 
riously to  gorge  itself.  We  aristocrats  always 
begin  to  talk  about  good  feeling  when  we  see 
danger  to  our  dividends.  [^Strikes  out  the  whole 
passage  with  a  pencil.^  That's  that,  anyway. 
No.  I'll  make  my  own  speech  cntirel3^  [Rips  up 
the  document. '\ 

Lady  Mah.    Really,  my  lady! 

Blanche.    Yes,  really.    All  out  of  ray  own  head. 


64  BODY  AND  SOUL 

I'll  wake  up  this  country,  you  see  if  I  don't,  old 
Kitty.  .  .  .  And  what's  this?  Registered! 
\^Handlmg  contents  of  another  envelope.^  Oh, 
yes,  Victory  Loan.  Bearer  Bonds.  Twenty-five 
thousand  pounds.     That's  healthy. 

Lady  Mah.  Your  ladyship  told  me  to  get 
Bearer  Bonds  because  they're  easier  to  realise. 

Blanclie.  I'll  keep  them  by  me,  handy.  Make 
you  feel  sort  of  safer  among  all  this  Bolshevism 
and  Syndicalism,  don't  they? 

Lady  Mah  \_apprehensive.  Changing  the  sub- 
ject^. I  see  there's  another  letter  from  the 
Mayor  of  Bursley.  I  wonder  if  he's  still  trying  to 
get  your  ladyship  to  sleep  at  his  house  to-night. 

Blanche.  No.  It's  a  woman's  writing.  The 
Mayoress,  no  doubt.  Yes.  "Trust  that  after  all 
you  will  see  your  way  to  honour  us  by  accepting 
our  hospitality  for  the  night." 

Lady  Mah  \^smili7ig  superiorly^^.  Thej'^  are  ob- 
stinate, these  Midlanders,  aren't  they? 

Blanche.  Well,  I'll  honour  her.  After  all  I 
hate  hotels. 

Lady  Mah.     But  he's  an  auctioneer. 

Blanche.  I  love  auctioneers.  Help  me  on  with 
my  dress — quickly.  \^Slie  throws  off  the  dress- 
ing-gown.'\ 

Lady  Mah  [preparing  to  ohey'\.  But  we  are 
bound  to  be  very  uncomfortable  at  the  Mayor's. 

Blanche  {ignoring  Lady  Mob's  remarli,  and 
picking  up  the  very  violent  pyjamas'^.    No  won- 


ACT  II  65 

der  I  had  a  bad  night.     I  shall  give  these  things 
a  miss  for  the  provinces. 

Lady  Mah  [very  'polite,  but  ignoring  Blanclie^s 
remark^.  And  we've  engaged  rooms  at  the  hotel 
at  Stafford. 

Blanche  [a*  her  dress  is  being  put  on.].  This 
skirt  does  not  fit  at  all  well.  I  shall  make  my 
own  wedding-dress.  [^LooMng  at  Lady  Mab.^ 
Kitty,  why  did  you  put  on  that  extraordinary 
secretarial  dress  to-day? 

Lady  Mab  [^continuing  her  o-w^n  line  of 
thought'\.  Yesterday  your  ladyship  was  quite 
decided  against  staying  at  the  Mayor^s. 

Blanche.  Kitty!  [Looking  at  her  again-l 
Yesterday  belongs  to  the  dead  past.  And  don't 
you  forget  it. 

Lady  Mab  [polite  but  pouting^.  I  don't 
see 

Blanche.  You  don't  see  that  you're  getting 
a  bit  above  yourself,  my  girl. 

[Enter  Aaron,  rapidly. '\ 

Aaron.     Good  morning. 

Blanche.  My  Aaron !  How  quick  you've  been ! 
[She  rushes  into  his  arms  and  kisses  him.  Still 
holding  him,  and  looking  at  Kitty,  who  is  thun- 
derstruck and  resentful,  but  helpless.  Firmly.'] 
Kitty,  go  and  change  that  horrible  dress  imme- 
diately. Put  something  of  mine  on  if  you  like. 
I  want  to  talk  to  Mr.  Draper. 

CURTAIN 


ACT  in 


SCENE  I 

The  Mayoress  of  Bursley's  drawing-room.  The 
room  is  on  the  first  floor.  The  furniture 
gives  evidence  of  some  taste.  Two  doors.  A 
large  French  window  down  stage  t..  A  small- 
er window  hack,  through  which  is  obtained 
a  glimpse  of  a  highly  industrial  landscape. 

TiaiE:  Afternoon  of  same  day   as   Act    II, 
Scene  Hi. 
Mrs.  Clews  is  alone. 
Enter  Mr.  Clews. 

Mrs.  Clews.     Five  pounds,  please. 

Mr.  Clews  Iteasingly^.  Certainly.  Fifty,  if 
you  like.    Five  hundred. 

Mrs.  Clews  [as  he  offers  to  kiss  her,  spurning 
him^.    Nay!    Five  pounds  and  I'll  thank  you. 

Mr.  Clews.    What's  it  for? 

Mrs.  Clews.  You'll  know  when  you've  paid 
me.  And  you'd  better  look  sharp.  Trouble's 
coming. 

Mr.  Clews  [paying  her}.  I  shall  stop  it  out 
of  your  allowance  if  there's  any  hankj^-panky. 


ACT  III  67 

Mrs.  Clews.  You  won't  stop  it  out  of  ray  al- 
lowance.    You've  lost  your  bet. 

Mr.  Clews.    What  bet? 

Mrs.  Clews.  You  bet  me  five  pounds  she 
wouldn't  stay  with  us ;  and  she's  coming.  .  .  . 
With  her  secretary,  if  you  please. 

Mr.  Clews  [taken  abacJc^.    She  isn't! 

Mrs.  Clews  [showing  him  a  telegram,  which 
they  both  regard  in  silence^.  She's  late  already. 
Of  course.  Those  people  always  are.  Never  rely 
on  them.  Still,  as  you're  late,  it's  a  good  thing 
she's  late. 

Mr.  Clews.  I've  disposed  of  over  a  hundred 
and  forty  Lots  to-day. 

Mrs.  Clews.  I'm  not  denying  it.  But  you'i-e 
late,  and  she  might  have  got  here  first,  and  then 
where'd  you  have  been.'' 

Mr.  Clews  [heartily'].  Well,  I'm  glad  she's 
coming. 

3Irs.  Clews.     Well,  I'm  not. 

Mr.  aews.     Why? 

Mrs.  Clews.  I  didn't  want  her  to  come.  .  .  . 
And  her  secretary. 

Mr.  Clews.  Then  why  did  you  make  such  a 
devil  of  a  fuss  about  getting  her  here?  You  were 
determined  to  have  her. 

Mrs.  Clews.  Yes,  and  you  bet  me  five  pounds 
I  shouldn't. 

Mr.  Clews.  And  now  you've  got  her  and  the 
money,  too 


68  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Mrs.  Clews  [liandling  Treasury  Notes'\. 
They're  very  dirty. 

Mr.  Clews.  No  money  is  dirty.  Now  you've 
got  her  you  don't  want  her.  That's  you  all  over. 
ILaughs.']     Child!     Child— aged  fifty. 

Mrs.  Clews.  I  want  her  to  comCy  but  I  don't 
want  her  to  come. 

Mr.  Clews.     Clearness  itself. 

Mrs.  Clews.  Well,  of  course  it's  clear!  She's 
coming  for  a  town  function.  You're  the  Mayor. 
And  I  suppose  I'm  the  Mayoress.  It  was  our 
business  to  ask  her  to  stay  with  us,  and  it  was 
her  business  to  accept.  Why  should  she  refuse, 
I  should  like  to  know.  A  nice  thing  her  saying 
she  meant  to  stop  at  a  hotel  at  Stafford  to-night, 
and  drive  over  here  to-morrow  for  the  day !  Why 
Stafford?  Well,  anyway,  she's  coming.  So  that's 
all  right.     But  I  wish  to  goodness  she  wasn't. 

Mr.  Clews  \^soothmgly'\.  Yes.  I  dare  say 
she'll  be  a  bit  fastidious. 

Mrs.  Clews.  Fastidious?  She's  never  seen  a 
better  bathroom  than  the  spare  bathroom.  I 
don't  care  who  she  is.  Nor  better  service.  Nor 
better  tea  than  she'll  get  here.  Nor  better  cook- 
ing, if  my  experience  of  London  hotels  is  worth 
anything.  No,  it's  not  her  ladyship's  fastid- 
iousness that  I'm  afraid  of.  She's  not  my  sort, 
and  so  you've  got  it,  Ezra  Clews. 

Mr.  Clews  [laugJiing'].     She's  my  sort, 

Mrs.  Clews.     Oh,  is  she?     How  do  you  know? 


ACT  III  69 

[^Reflectively. '[  First  she  won't,  and  then  she  will. 
Wh}'  couldn't  she  make  up  her  mind  and  stick 
to  it?     I've  no  patience  with  such  work. 

Mr,  Clews.     Asking  anybody  to  dinner? 

Mrs.  Clews.  No.  I'm  not  asking  anybody  to 
dinner.     She  couldn't  expect  it. 

Mr.  Clews.     Why  not? 

Mrs.  Cleu)s.  Why  not?  If  I  went  up  all  of  a 
sudden  to  stay  with  her,  should  /  expect  her  to 
get  her  friends  to  meet  me  at  six  hours'  notice? 

Mr.  Clews.  Jack'd  be  glad  to  come  to  meet 
her,  for  one. 

Mrs.  Clews,    Which  Jack? 

Mr.  Clews.    Alderman. 

Mrs.  Clews.  That  old  bachelor?  And  what 
about  his  sister,  I  should  like  to  know. 

Mr.  Clews.     Needn't  ask  her. 

Mrs.  Clews.  Oh,  needn't  I?  You  may  be  the 
Mayor,  Ezra,  but  you  aren't  the  Mayoress.  I 
should  never  hear  the  last  of  it  if  I  didn't  ask  her 
too.  No,  if  I  didn't  ask  the  entire  Council  therc'd 
be  so  much  jealousy  let  loose  in  this  town  that  the 
place  wouldn't  hold  me.  We  shall  dine  what  they 
call  "quietly." 

Mr.  Clews.    All  right !    All  right !    D'you  know 
why  you're  so  cross,  my  pet? 
Mrs.  Clews.     I'm  not  cross. 
Mr.  Clews.     Yes,  you  are,  and  it's  simply  be- 
cause you're  nervous. 

Mrs.  Clews.     Me  nervous !     You'll  see  whether 


70  BODY  AND  SOUL 

I'm  nervous.  I've  got  an  official  duty  to  per- 
form, and  I  shall  perform  it.  But  I  shall  keep 
my  place  and  I'll  see  she  keeps  hers.  \_She  jumps 
up  suddenly/  and  listens. ![     They're  there. 

Mr.  Clems   {^teasingly^.     Of  course  you  aren't 
nervous.     Any  one  can  see  that, 
[Mrs.  Clews  puts  her  fingers  to  her  nose  at  him, 

and  slowly  sits  down.^ 

l^Enter  Parlourmaid  followed  hy  Blanche  Nixon 

and  Lady  Mab.^ 

Parlourmaid  [nervously^.     Lady  Mab  Infold. 

\_Exit.'\ 

Mrs.  Clews  \_rising  with  dignity,  to  Blanche^. 
How  do  3^ou  do.  Lady  Mab.?  I  hope  you've  had 
a  good  journey.  It's  very  nice  of  you  to  come 
all  this  way. 

Blanche.  Mrs.  Clews,  it's  very  nice  of  you  to 
ask  me  to  stay  here. 

Mrs.  Clews.  Oh!  Not  at  all.  It's  all  in  the 
day's  work.     My  husband. 

Mr.  Clews.    Delighted  to  have  you,  Lady  Mab. 

Blanche.  How  d'you  do,  Mr.  Clews.?  This  is 
my  secretary,  Miss  Crane.  [^Indicating  Lady 
Mab,  who  languidly  but  politely  shakes  hands  in 
silence.  J 

Mrs.  Clews.    Now  do  sit  down.    I'm  sure  you'd 
like  some  tea  at  once. 
Enter  Parlourmaid  and  another  maid  with  tea. 

Mrs.  Clews.     Now,  Betsy,  let's  have  that  tea. 

Parlourmaid.     Yes,  ma'am.     Yes,  ma'am. 


ACT  III  71 

Mrs.  Clews.  Won't  jou  sit  down  and  make 
3'ourselves   comfortable? 

Ladi/  Mah.    I  will.     [5i/5.] 

Blanche  [fo  Lady  Mab^.  You're  rather  ex- 
hausted, my  poor  dear.  [Lady  Mah  gives  an  as- 
senting gesture.^ 

Mrs.  Clews  [to  Lady  Mab'].  A  cup  of  tea  is 
what  you  want.  [To  Blanche.]  Which  chair 
will  you  have,  Lady  Mab? 

Blanche.  D'you  mind  if  I  stand  a  bit?  After 
sitting  for  over  sis  hours 

Mrs.  Clews  [pouring  out  tea].     You  feel  as  if 
you  want   to   stretch  yourself?     I  know.      Well, 
there's  plenty  of  room  to  walk  about. 
[Exit  second  maid.] 

Parlourmaid  [aside  to  Mr.  Clews,  confiden- 
tially].    There's  a  parcel  for  you,  sir. 

Mr.  Clews.     Bring  it  in. 

Parlourmaid.     Yes,  sir.  [Exit.] 

Mr.  Clews  [to  Blanche].  Do  you  mean  to  say 
you've  got  down  in  six  hours? 

Blanche.     And  a  quarter. 

Mr.  Clews.  You  must  have  stepped  out  a  bit. 
What  car?     Rolls-Royce,  I  reckon. 

Blanche.  I  never  looked.  Hired  it.  Hire 
everything.      Saves  so  much  responsibility. 

Mr.  Clews.    Eh !    But  I  like  my  own  car. 

Mrs.  Clews.  Not  when  you've  run  into  a  wall 
you  don't,  Ezra.  [To  Blanche.]  I  hope  the  gar- 
dener's looking  after  your  chauffeur. 


72  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Blanche.  Oh,  yes,  thanks.  He  was  waiting 
for  us  at  the  gates.  \_At  the  window.^  What  a 
splendid  view  you  have  here. 

Mrs.  Clews.     Should  you  call  it  "splendid"? 

Blanche.  I  think  it's  a  splendid  panorama. 
And  that  town  hall  in  the  middle  with  the  gold 
angel  on  the  top.  [Roguishli/  to  Mr.  Clews. Ji  I 
suppose  you  live  up  here  so  that  you  can  keep  a 
fatherly  eye  on  the  whole  town.'' 

Mr.  Clews  [^laughing^.  That's  a  good  joke, 
Mary. 

Mrs.  Clews  \_rather  sternly  to  Mr.  Clews'\. 
Will  you  please  pass  the  cups,  Ezra?  \^He  obeys.]^ 
Take  the  sugar,  too.  Give  Miss  Crane  hers  first, 
as  she's  so  tired. 

Blanche  [^still  looking  out  of  the  window^.  I 
like  yovLV  town  park.  It's  very  big.  But,  of 
course,  the  town's  very  big,  isn't  it? 

Mr.  Clews.     Forty  thousand  odd. 

Blanche.  Really.  And  I  suppose  they've  made 
pottery  here  for  thousands  of  years? 

Mr.  Clews.  Well,  fifteen  hundred.  [Enter 
Parlourmaid  with  parcel.^     Undo  it. 

Mrs.  Clews.  It's  not  so  much  pottery  I  object 
to.     It's  coal  I  object  to. 

Blanche.  You  mean  the  smuts?  [Taking  cup.^ 
Thanks. 

Mrs.  Clews.     Well,  I  do. 

Blanche.  Well,  Mrs.  Clews,  that's  just  what 
I  was  going  to  ask  you.    With  all  these  big  chim- 


ACT  III  73 

neys  all  round,  Bursley  must  be  even  smokier  than 
London,  and  goodness  knows  London's  smoky 
enough — ^how  do  you  manage  to  keep  your  white 
curtains  so  clean? 

l^Exit  Parlourmaid.'] 

Mrs.  Clews  [touched,  wnbending].  I  change 
them. 

Mr.  Clews  [opening  the  'parcel'].  She  had  'em 
changed  this  morning — for  you. 

Mrs.  Clews.  I  had  them  changed  this  morn- 
ing because  it's  the  day  for  changing,  not  because 
of  Lady  Mab.  [Stiffly  again.]  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  I  didn't  know  this  morning  that  I  should 
have  the  pleasure  of  Lady  Mab's  company 
to-day. 

Blanche.  Well,  Mrs.  Clews,  I'm  awfully  glad 
I  decided  to  inflict  myself  on  you — you  and  your 
husband  make  me  feel  so  at  home.  I'd  always 
heard  that  Five  Towns  people  are  exceedingly 
hospitable,  but 

Mrs.  Clews  [rigidly].  We  never  make  a  fuss 
over  folks.  We  expect  them  to  take  us  as  they 
find  us. 

Blanche.  That's  what  I  lilce.  Are  those  what 
you  call  pikelets? 

Mr.  Clews.     Fancy  you  knowing  tliat  name! 

Blanche.     May  I  help  myself? 

Mr.  Clews.    Your  hands  '11  be  all  butter. 

Blanche   [tasting,  joyously].     Um — urn — um! 

Mrs.  Clews.     Take  this  napkin.  Lady  Mab.     I 


74*  BODY  AND  SOUL 

dare  say  in  London  they  don't  have  napkins  with 
afternoon  tea,  but  we  always  do  here. 

Blanche.  Thank  you.  Oh!  What  a  beauti- 
ful teacloth !  Oh,  Mrs.  Clews !  What  a  beauti- 
ful teacloth!     [^Examining  teacloth.^ 

Mrs.  Clews.     Do  you  really  think  so? 

Blanche.  It's  lovely.  [Turning  over  the  cor- 
ner of  the  cloth.^ 

Mrs.  Clews  [slightly  disturbed'].  You  may  well 
turn  it  over.  Of  course,  the  maids  alwa3^s  put 
them  wrong-side-up — always. 

Blanche  [reflectively,  still  examining'].  Yes, 
nearly  always,  don't  they?  But  with  such  very 
"finely  finished  work  it's  easy  to  make  the  mistake, 
isn't  it? 

Mrs.  Clews.  Maj^be  it  is,  maybe  it  isn't.  / 
should  never  mistake  one  side  for  the  other.  But 
girls  don't  look. 

Blanche.  Of  course,  you  can't  buy  things  like 
that  in  London  shops, 

Mrs.  Clews  [dryly].    No,  I  suppose  not. 

Blanche  [playfully  accusing].  I  believe  you 
crocheted  that  yourself. 

Mrs.  Clews.  Well,  I  did  it  last  year.  I've 
no  time  for  such  fal-lals  nowadays — the  mayor- 
alty, I  mean. 

Blanche.  But  where  do  you  get  these  beauti- 
ful old  English  patterns  from? 

Mrs.  Clews.  Oh!  Out  of  a  crochet  book  that 
used  to  belong  to  my  grandmother. 


ACT  III  75 

Blanche.  Well,  I  tliink  it's  simply  marvel- 
lous. 

Mr.  Clews  [^looling  up  from  his  parcel^. 
You've  made  a  friend  of  the  old  lady  for  life, 
that's  what  you've  done. 

Mrs.  Clews  [^turning  on  him  sharply^.  And 
what  are  you  about,  Ezra.''  Do  you  call  this 
entertaining  ladies? 

Blanche  [glancing  at  contents  of  the  parcel^. 
Etchings,  Mr.  Clews .? 

Mrs.  Clews.  My  husband's  got  himself  into 
the  hands  of  those  dealers  in  London.  They  send 
him  down  samples  to  look  at,  and  once  he's  seen 
'em  he's  done  for.  Calls  himself  a  collector — 
\_benevolentl2/'\  don't  you,  Ezra.? 

Mr.  Clews.  I've  got  a  few  [glancing  at  walls'\, 
as  ye  see.  Do  you  like  D.  Y.  Cameron.''  Here's 
one. 

Blanche  [looking  at  the  etching^.  Mountains. 
D'you  know,  I  think  I  know  more  about  teacloths 
than  etchings. 

Mrs.  Clews.  That's  right,  Lady  Mab.  That's 
right. 

Mr.  Clews.  I  told  you  you'd  made  a  friend  of 
her  for  life. 

Mrs.  Clews.  His  father  used  to  keep  pigeons. 
He  keeps  etchings. 

Mr.  Clews.  I  think  I  shall  stick  to  this  one 
[indicating  the  etching  by  D.  Y.  Cameron]. 

Mrs.  Clews.    How  much  is  it.'' 


76  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Mr.  Clews.     Eighteen  guineas. 

Mrs.  Clews  [looking  at  it^.  It's  marked  twen- 
ty-one. 

Mr.  Clews  \_with  an  air  of  innocence^.  So  it  is. 
Think  it's  worth  it,  Lady  Mab? 

Blanche.  Kitty  here  understands  etchings  bet- 
ter than  I  do. 

Lady  Mab  [looking  at  the  etching  negligent- 
ly']. Very  nice.  Mrs.  Clews,  would  you  be  very 
shocked  if  I  had  a  cigarette?  I'm  afraid  my 
nerves 

Mrs.  Clews  [benevolently  reproachful].  Ezra, 
what  are  you  thinking  of? 

Mr.  Clews.  Sorry!  Sorry!  [Hands  ciga- 
rettes from  his  case  to  Lady  Mab  and  Blanche]. 

Mrs.  Clews.  And  what  about  me,  I  should 
like  to  know?  [To  the  astonishment  of  Lady 
Mab  she  takes  a  cigarette.  As  Mr.  Clews  strikes 
a  match.]  No  etching  is  worth  twenty-one 
guineas.  That's  what  I  say.  You  could  buy 
quite  a  good  mufF  for  that.  But  have  I  quite  a 
good  muff?  [She  blows  out  the  match  which  Mr. 
Clews  offers  to  her.]     Not  three. 

Mr.  Clews.    Are  you  superstitious,  Lady  Mab  ? 

Blanche.  Not  a  bit.  But  I  don't  believe  in 
lighting  three  cigarettes  with  one  match. 

Mrs.  Clews.  Of  course  not.  It  stands  to  rea- 
son. 

[All  four  smoke.^ 

Mr.   Clews.     And  what   d'ye  think   of   Muir- 


ACT  III  77 

head  Bone,  Miss  Crane?     [^Showing  another  etch- 
ing.] 

Lady  Mab  [vaguely].     Muirhead  Bone? 

Blanche.  Kitty,  my  child,  I  feel  sure  Mrs. 
Clews  wall  excuse  you  if  you  go  and  lie  down. 
You  don't  look  at  all  well.  Will  you  excuse  her, 
Mrs,  Clews? 

Mrs.  Clews.  That  I  will.  I'll  take  you  to  your 
bedroom  myself.  Miss  Crane. 

Lady  Mab.     Thanks  so  much. 

Mrs.  Clexas  [to  Blanche].  Would  you  care  to 
see  your  room,  too? 

Mr.  Clews  [interposing].  Nay,  nay!  I've 
something  to  sa}^  to  Lady  Mab,  and  I'll  say  it 
now.     It's  about  to-morrow's  affair. 

Blanche.  Certainly,  Mr.  Clews.  [To  Lady 
Mah.]  Don't  thvnli  of  unpacking,  child.  I'll  see 
to  that  when  I  come  up. 

Mrs.  Clews  [dryly].  She  needn't.  Your 
things  will  be  unpacked  by  this  time. 

[Exetmt  Lady  Mah  and  Mrs.  Clews.] 

Mr.  Clews.     Now,  Lady  Mab. 

Blanche.     Now,  Mr.  Maj'or. 

Mr.  Clews.    Why  do  you  say  "Mr.  Mayor"? 

Blanche.  Because  I  feel  sure  you're  going  to 
be — er — municipal. 

Mr.  Clews  [laughs].  Look  here,  young  lady! 
Before  I  proceed  further,  you  and  I  had  better 
come  to  an  understanding. 


78  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Blanche.  Yes,  let's  have  it  out — whatever  it 
is. 

Mr.  Clews.  You're  the  celebrated  Lady  Mab 
Infold.  You're  one  of  the  big  bugs  of  what  they 
call  London  society.  Your  father  was  a  Mar- 
quis.    My  father  was  an  auctioneer. 

Blanche.  Yes,  but  all  that  isn't  my  fault;  and 
it  isn't  yours,  either.  We're  both  quite  inno- 
cent. 

Mr.  Clews.  As  I  was  saying,  my  father  was 
an  auctioneer.     And  I'm  an  auctioneer. 

Blanche.  Believe  me,  marquises  aren't  half  as 
important  as  auctioneers.  Why,  without  auc- 
tioneers England  couldn't  always  be  changing 
hands,  could  it? 

Mr.  Clews.     You're  at  it  again. 

Blanche.  But  what  I've  always  liked  about 
auctioneers  is  that  they're  so — persuasive. 

Mr.  Clews.  Well  then,  we'll  put  it  at  that. 
And  you  must  let  me  persuade  you  that  somehow 
I  can't  treat  you  as  if  you  were  the  celebrated 
Lady  Mab  Infold  and  me  only  an  auctioneer.  I 
can't  do  it. 

Blanche.    And  why  not.-* 

Mr.  Clews.  You  know  why  not.  You  won't 
let  me.  You're  not  at  all  the  sort  of  young 
woman  I  was  expecting. 

Blanche.  Oh!  What  sort  of  young  woman 
were  you  expecting.^ 

Mr.  Clews.    Well,  something  a  long  sight  more 


ACT  III  79 

stuck-up  and  finicking  and  flim-flammy  than  you 
are. 

Blanche.     I  see. 

Mr.  Clews.    Yes. 

Blanche.  Well,  now  I'll  tell  you  something. 
I  don't  want  you  to  treat  me  as  if  I  was  the 
celebrated  Lady  Mab  Infold.  And  what's  more, 
I  should  be  extremely  annoyed  if  you  did. 

Mr.  Clews.  How  do  you  want  me  to  treat 
you.? 

Blanche.  Why !  As  3'ou  are  treating  me,  of 
course.  I'm  one  human  being.  You're  another. 
That  makes  two. 

Mr.  Clews.     Right! 

Blanche.  So  we've  had  it  out  and  it's  all  very 
friendly,  and  we're  as  thick  as  tliieves.  Now  the 
business. 

Mr.  Clews.     This  foundation-stone  laying. 

Blanche.     Wliat  about  it.? 

Mr.  Clews.  Wants  some  arranging,  you 
know.  I  always  like  everything  to  go  off  slick, 
and  I  always  make  a  time-table — and  stick  to  it. 
I  suppose  you'll  just  declare  the  stone  "well  and 
truly  laid,"  like  ladies  usually  do  when  they  lay 
foundation-stones,  and  that'll  be  all. 

Blanche.     Of  course,  it  won't  be  all. 

Mr.  Clews  [surprised].  You're  thinking  to 
make  a  regular  speech,  then,  are  you?  .  .  .  I'm 
only  asking  because  I've  got  to  arrange  my  own 


80  BODY  AND  SOUL 

speech.  You  see,  I  have  to  boss  the  pro- 
ceedings. 

Blam^clie.  Mr.  Clews,  why  did  you  ask  me  to 
come  here? 

Mr.  Clews.  Well,  I  saw  in  the  paper  as  you'd 
been  doing  something  similar  in  the  East  End  o£ 
London;  and  the  idea  occurred  to  me 

Blanche.  Yes,  it  was  .an  auctioneer's  idea. 
You  thought  everybody  would  be  on  pins  to  have 
a  look  at  me.  You  thought  what  a  good  ad- 
vertisement I  should  be  for  your  Health  Insti- 
tute, and  how  my  name  would  get  your  Health 
Institute  into  all  the  London  papers !  Now  didn't 
you? 

Mr.  Clews.    Hang  it!     Yes,  I  did! 

Blanche.  Anyway,  you're  honest.  But  really 
you've  been  very  naughty,  my  dear  Mr.  Mayor. 
Very  naughty  indeed !  You  meant  to  use  me  like 
a  mere  doU.  Now  I  just  want  to  ask  you  con- 
fidentially— is  this  Health  Institute  a  serious  un- 
dertaking or  is  it  a  circus? 

Mr.  Clews.  It's  the  most  important  thing 
there's  ever  been  in  this  town,  and  it'll  be  the  first 
Municipal  Health  Institute  in  the  whole  coun- 
try. 

Blanche.  And  you're  bursting  with  pride  over 
it. 

Mr.  Clews.    I  am. 

Blanche.  Then  why  not  treat  it  seriously,  and 
let  me  treat  it   seriously?  .  .   .  No   descriptions 


ACT  III  81 

of  my  clothes  in  the  papers.     No  photographs. 
No 

Mr.  Clews.  No  photographs!  But  our  two 
leading  photographers  have  been  engaged  b}'  the 
Dailj/  Mirror  and  the  Daily  Sketch  to  take 

Blanche  [excited].     What? 

Mr.  Clews.  Yes.  Not  to  mention  the  Staf- 
fordshire Sentinel. 

Blanche.  They  must  all  be  stopped.  If  they 
aren't  all  stopped,  if  you  don't  give  me  your  word 
instantly  to  have  them  stopped,  I'll  go  back  to 
London  at  once— this  very  night.  I  hate  being 
photographed. 

Mr.  Clews.  All  right!  All  right!  But  we've 
always  understood  down  here  that  you  were  the 
most  photographed  lady  off  the  stage. 

Blanche  [persisting'].  You  give  me  your  sol- 
emn word?     [Snatching  up  her  dust-cloak.] 

Mr.  Clews.     Why!     Bless  us!     Yes. 

BlancJie  [dropping  the  cloak].  Vm  a  serious 
woman. 

Mr.  Clews.     So  I  see. 

Blanche  [alluringly].  You'll  sec  even  clearer 
to-morrow. 

Mr.  Clews.  Then  your  ladyship  intends  to 
show  us  Bursleyites  how  to  run  our  Health  In- 
stitute? 

Blanche.  Not  at  all.  But  I  intend  to  take 
the  opportunity  you've  so  kindly  given  me  of 
spreading  some  of  ray  ideas. 


82  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Mr,  Clews.  No  doubt  you're  a  practised 
speaker. 

Blanche.  I  never  do  anything  else  but  talk. 
It's  my  specialty. 

Mr.  Clews.  And  I  dare  say  you've  been  look- 
ing the  subject  up?  Well,  it's  very  conscientious 
of  you,  and  if  my  apologies  are  any  use  to  you, 
they're  yours. 

Blanche  \^smilmg^.  I've  certainly  not  been 
looking  the  subject  up.  I've  had  my  ideas  about 
municipal  health  for  years.  And  I'm  bursting 
with  them  just  as  you're  bursting  with  pride. 
Like  to  hear  some  of  them? 

Mr.  Clews.     I  would  that! 

Blanche.     They're  dangerous. 

Mr.  Clews.     I  bet  they  are. 

Blanche.  Well,  in  the  first  place,  I'm  not  go- 
ing very  strong  on  the  anti-alcohol  tack.  Drink 
isn't  a  cause  of  misery;  it's  a  result.  It's  a  re- 
sult of  you  folks  who  manage  towns  not  know- 
ing your  business.  Nine  topers  out  of  ten  take  to 
whisky  because  you  haven't  understood  that 
people  need  decent  bedrooms  and  recreation  a 
great  deal  more  than  they  need  drainage  and 
trams. 

Mr.  Clews.     That's  a  bull's-eye. 

Blanche.  Secondly.  If  you  looked  after  the 
mothers  properly  the  mothers  would  look  after 
the  children,  and  there  wouldn't  be  any  infancy 
health  problems.    In  this  district  you've  got  near- 


ACT  in  83 

ly  the  highest  infant  mortality  in  the  kingdom. 

Mr.  Cle-vi-s.  Yes,  but  if  you  tell  us  so,  only  our 
respect  for  womanhood  and  the  aristocracy  will 
save  you  from  being  jolly  well  lynched  on  the 
platform. 

Blanche.  I'll  "jolly  well"  risk  it.  .  .  .  You're 
keeping  calm? 

Mr.  Clews.     I'm  trying  to. 

Blanche.  Then,  thirdly:  In  the  work  of  a 
Health  Institute  you  can't  separate  morals  from 
medicine. 

Mr.  Clews.  We  have  done  up  to  now.  Doc- 
tors always  do. 

Blanche.  Show  me  one  of  your  doctors  and 
I'll  ask  him  this:  "Listen  to  me,  doctor,"  I'll 
say.  "You  know  what  your  consumption  death- 
rate  is."  "Yes,"  he'll  say.  "Well,"  I'll  say, 
"having  regard  to  your  consumption  death-rate, 
how  do  you  defend  a  system  of  morals  that  puts 
up  a  twenty-thousand-pound  church  in  a  slum 
where  no  man  not  an  idiot  would  house  a  pig?'* 
[il/r.  Clews  ri/ngs  the  hell.'\  .  .  .  And  I'll  pause 
for  a  reply,  and  I'll  see  whether  your  doctors  still 
refuse  to  separate  morals  from  medicine. 
^Enter  Parlourmaid.^ 

Mr.  Clews  [sitting  down,  to  Parlourmaid']. 
Bring  me  a  liqueur  brandy — and  quick. 

Parlourmaid.    Yes,  sir.  [Exit.] 

Blanche.  You  perceive  how  alcoholism  is  a 
result  and  not  a  cause. 


84.  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Mr.  Clews  [weaMyl.     Anything  more? 

Blanche.  One  point,  as  you've  mentioned  doc- 
tors, I  shall  suggest  a  motto  for  your  Health 
Institute:      "First  knock  sense  into   doctors.'* 

Mr.  Clews.  Well,  that's  put  the  lid  on.  There's 
^oing  to  be  three  doctors  on  the  Board  of  Man- 
agement. I  see  I  shall  have  to  order  a  special 
police  guard  for  you  after  the  ceremony. 

Blanche  \^shaking  her  head].  Don't  be 
alarmed.  The  crowd  is  much  more  likely  to  in- 
sist on  dragging  your  car  and  me  in  it  with  ropes 
up  to  your  house.  I've  got  something  up  my 
sleeve — an  infallible  recipe  for  popularity  on  a 
day  like  to-morrow. 

Mr.  Clews.  What  is  it.?  I  should  like  a  bit  of 
it  for  myself. 

Blanche.     Ah !     You'll  know  to-morrow. 
\^Enter  Parlourmaid.] 

Parlourmaid.  A  gentleman  to  see  Lady  Mab 
Infold.     [^She  hands  a  card.] 

Blanche  \_after  looking  at  the  card,  controlling 
herself].  Oh!  Will  you  excuse  me  for  a  mo- 
ment.''    I'll  just  go  out  and  see  him. 

Mr.  Clews..  Take  Lady  Mab  and  the  gentle- 
man into  the  breakfast-room. 

Parlourmaid.     Yes,  sir. 

\_Exeimt  Blanche  and  Parlourmaid.] 
{^Enter  Mrs.  Clews.] 

Mrs.  Clews.  You  look  startled.  What  on 
earth  have  you  been  doing  to  your  hair.'' 


ACT  III  85 

Mr.  Clews.     She's  a  whirlwind,  that  wench  is. 
Mrs.  Clews.     She's  a  great  girl.     I  almost  wish 
I'd  asked  some  of  the  folks  to  dinner. 

Mr.  Clews.  She's  a  great  girl.  But  she's  go- 
ing to  make  a  speech  to-morrow  that'll  turn  this 
town  head  over  heels. 

Mrs.  Clews.  Do  the  town  good.  We  want 
more  women  to  make  speeches.  Where  is  she.-* 
What's  that  chattering  downstairs  in  the  hall? 

Mr.   Clews.     Some  fellow's  just   called  to   see 
her.     [^PicUng  up  card.'\     "Mr.  Aaron  Draper." 
Mrs.  Clews.     Why!     That's  the  one  she's  en- 
gaged to.     \^She  moves  quickly  towards  the  door.^ 
Mr.  Clews.     Where  are  you  going? 
Mrs.  Clews.     I'm  going  to  fetch  him  up  here 
and  have  a  look  at  him. 

Mr.  Clews.     But 

\^Exit  Mrs.  Clews. '\ 
[During  the  -foregoing  dialogue  conversation  has 
been  indistinctly  heard  off.    "I'm  afraid  this 
is  rather  a  surprise  for  you.''    "Shall  I  take 
your  things,  sir?"     "We  haven't  been  liere 
very  long  ourselves.      Only  just   had   tea." 
"I     came    by     the    twelve-thirty    express.^ 
"Will  you  and  the  gentleman  come  this  way, 
my  lady?"     Etc.^ 
Mrs.  Clews   [o/f].     Don't  go   in   there,  Lady 
Mab.     Come  in  the  drawing-room  a  moment. 
Blanche    [_off'\.      Oh!      May   I   introduce   Mr. 


86  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Aaron      Draper?      Aaron,      Mrs.      Clews,      our 
Mayoress. 

Mrs.  Clews  [oj^].     Very  pleased,  I'm  sure, 
l^Enter  Blanche,  Mrs.  Clews,  and  Aaron.} 

Blanche  [jondly}.  Mr.  Clews,  this  is  my  young 
man  \_patting  Aaron} — Aaron  Draper.  Aaron — - 
Mr.  Clews,  our  Mayor. 

3Ir.  Clems.  Glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Draper. 
{They  shake  hands.']  This  is  an  unexpected 
pleasure. 

Mrs.  Clews.  But  a  pleasure  it  is.  Now  do  sit 
down  and  make  yourself  at  home, 

Aaron.  It's  an  intrusion,  Mrs,  Clews,  that's 
what  it  is.  But  some  very  important  business 
turned  up,  and  I  thought  it  ad^^sable  to  run 
down  and  see — er — Lady  Mab  immediately, 

Mrs.  Clews  {positively}.  We'll  leave  you. 
Come  along,  Ezra. 

Aaron.    But,  please 

Mr.  Clews.  Nay,  nay !  Get  your  business  over 
first.     I  hope  you'll  stay  for  dinner. 

Aaron.  You  are  very  kind,  but  I'm  afraid  I 
can't. 

Mrs.  Clews.     Well,  we'll  argue  that  out  after- 
wards.    {Beckons  to  Mr.  Clews.} 
{As  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clews  reach  the  door,  enter 
Parlourmaid   with   a   liqueur  'brandy   on   a 
tray.     Mr.  Clews  snatches  it  up  and  drinks 
it.     Mrs.   Clews  gives  an   appropriate  ges- 


ACT  III  87 

ture  of  astonishment y  tlien  takes  the  glass 
and  sniffs  at  it.] 
[Exewnt  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clews  and  Parlourmaid.'] 
[As  soon  as  she  is  alone  with  Aaron  Blanclie^s  de- 
meanour towards  him  changes  to  one  of  seri- 
ousness and  reserve.] 

Blanche.  I  tliink — er — Kitty's  gone  to  lie 
down.     Not  feeling  very  well. 

Aaron.  Oh!  ...  I  came  down  at  once  be- 
cause I  met  your — er — uncle  in  Piccadilly  this 
morning  soon  after  you'd  gone 

Blanche.     My  uncle 

Aaron.     The  Marquis. 

Blanche.     Oh!    Him!    Yes.? 

Aaron.  I  happened  to  mention  about  this 
stone-laying  in  Bursley.  He  didn't  know  any- 
thing about  it. 

Blanche.     No  ? 

Aaron.  As  soon  as  your  uncle  heard  that 
there  was  a  IVIunicipal  Health  Institute  in  the 
wind,  he  made  up  his  mind  to  come  down  by  the 
first  train  to-morrow  and  see  the  show  for  him- 
self. The  old  gentleman  seems  to  be  interested 
in  such  things.  He's  certainly  very  interested  in 
you. 

Blanche  [still  cautiously].     Come  down  here? 

Aaron.    Yes. 

Blanche  [bluffing].  Well,  what  about  it? 
[With  a  forced  laugh.]     It's  a  free  country. 


88  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Aaron.  Oh,  certainly!  But  I  thought  you  and 
— er — Kitty  ought  to  be  warned. 

Blanche.     Warned  ? 

Aaron.     Yes. 

Blanche.  Why  "warned"?  Has — my  uncle 
got  rabies? 

Aaron.  Well,  of  course  that's  for  you  to  de- 
cide. 

Blanche  [m  a  new  tone\.  Let  me  ask  you  one 
question  ? 

Aaron.     Well? 

Blanche  \w%th  significance^.  As  a  general 
rule,  when  you've  started  out  to  do  a  thing  do 
you  believe  in  seeing  it  through? 

Aaron.     Yes,  I  do. 

Blanclie.  You  aren't  in  the  habit  of  giving 
in? 

Aaron.     No. 

Blanche.  You  don't  throw  the  sponge  {with 
a  gesture^  up  to  the  ceiling? 

Aaron.    No. 

Blanche  {approaching  him\.  Whatever  hap- 
pens? 

Aaron.    No. 

Blanche.      Shate   hands   on  it,   then.      {They 
shake  hands.]     Something  must  be  done. 
{Lady  Mab  opens  th^  door.   Blanche  is  still  hold- 
ing Aaron's  hand.   As  soon  as  she  perceives 
Lady  Mab  her  demeanour  to  Aaron  becomes 


ACT  III  89 

very  affectionate,  and  she  deliberately  kisses 
him  tzidce.^ 
Blanclie.     Darling ! 
[Lady  Mah  advances  impetuously  into  the  room, 
and  Blanche  affects  to  perceive  her  for  tlie 
first  tim^.^ 
Lady  Mah  [highly  resentful].    What!   Again! 
Blanche  [calmly  and  Undlyl.     My  poor  girl, 
I  thought  you  were  lying  down.     Are  you  better, 
or  are  you  worse? 

Lady  Mah  [to  Aaron].  The  parlourmaid  was 
bringing  me  up  some  eau-de-Cologne  and  she 
happened  to  tell  me  you  were  here. 

Blanche  [soothingly].     Ah!    You  are  worse. 
Lady  Mah  [to  Aaron].    \Vliat  have  you  come 
for? 

A  aron.     I 

Blanche  [stopping  him  with  an  easy  gesture. 
To  Lady  Mah].  You're  not  in  a  fit  state  to  be 
bothered,  my  dear.  Besides,  there  is  no  reason 
why  you  should  be.  Mr.  Draper  has  come  to 
see  me,  not  my  faithful  secretary. 

Lady  Mah.  I  shall  be  obliged  if  you  will  let 
me  see  Mr.  Draper  alone. 

Blanche.  No,  my  poor  child.  You  obviously 
aren't  yourself.  You  might  do  something  you'd 
regret  afterwards.  You  might,  for  instance, 
scratch  my  Aaron's  beautiful  face. 

Lady  Mah   [with  an  outburst].     Good  God! 


90  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Don't  you  think  this  play-acting  has  gone  far 
enough  ? 

Blanche.  Kitty,  please  don't  be  blasphemous. 
"Play-acting"?     What  do  you  mean? 

Lady  Mah.  You  know  perfectly  well  you 
aren't  me. 

Blanche  l_soothmgly^.  Did  I  ever  say  I  was? 
iTo  Aaron,  who  was  about  to  speak.]^  No,  no! 
Gently.  She  must  be  reasoned  with  gently.  \_To 
Lady  Mah.^     Of  course  I'm  not  you,  dear. 

Lady  Mah.  I  mean  you're  not  Lady  Mab  In- 
fold.    You^re  only  Blanche  Nixon. 

Blanche  [blandly^.  Blanche  Nixon?  Blanche 
Nixon?  Where  have  I  heard  that  name?  Oh, 
yes.  The  typewriter  woman.  My  poor  child,  you 
aren't  merely  worse,  you're  very  much  worse. 
You  never  spoke  a  word  all  the  way  down.  Some 
people  might  have  thought  you  were  sulking.  But 
I  felt  sure  you  were  only  unwell.  I'd  no  idea  you 
were  so  unwell. 

Lady  Mah.    It's  a  plot  against  me. 

Blanche.    What's  a  plot  against  you.'' 

Lady  Mah.     His  being  here  like  this. 

Blanche  [to  Aaron^.  Of  course,  they  always 
imagine  plots  when  they  get  themselves  into  this 
state.  [To  Lady  Mah  coaxingly.^  Kitty,  please 
do  keep  steady.  Don't  let  your  mind  go  en- 
tirely. I'll  tell  you  why  Mr.  Draper  is  here.  He 
heard  that  the  Marquis  thought  of  coming  down 
to-morrow  morning  to  see  the  show — a  pleasant 


ACT  III  91 

surprise  for  me !  And  so  Aaron  very  kindly  made 
a  special  journey  to  let  me  kno'.v.  That's  the 
simple  truth.  You  see  that  if  there's  any  plot 
it's  not  mine — it's  the  Marquis's. 

Lady  Mah.  Uncle  coming  here!  Oh,  I'm  so 
glad. 

Blanche  [io  Aaron^.  "Uncle"!  [To  Lady 
iVflfb.]  The  Marquis  will  not  come  here,  Kitty. 
I  shall  stop  him  from  coming.  Just  take  down 
this  telegram,  will  you?  A  little  secretarial  work 
may  do  30U  good. 

Lady  Mah.  Take  down  a  telegram?  Indeed 
I  shall  not  take  down  any  telegram. 

Blanche  {Jiindly  hut  -firmly^.  Kitty,  did  you 
or  did  you  not  come  here  as  ray  secretary?  An- 
swer me  now. 

Lady  Mah  '[after  hesitatingl.    Yes. 

Blanche.  Then  you  will  be  good  enough  to 
take  down  this  telegram.  [Handing  pencil.^ 
Here's  a  pencil.  Aaron,  get  some  paper.  [Look- 
ing round. ^  Your  card  there  will  do.  Give  it  to 
me.  It's  quite  short,  the  message  is.  [Aaron 
hands  the  card  to  Blanclie,  who  forces  it  on  Lady 
Mah.]  Get  the  address  right  first.  Then  go  on: 
"My  sweetest  uncle.  I  absolutely  forbid  you  to 
come  here  to-morrow.  If  you  do  I  will  make  a 
scandal. — Mab."  [Lady  Mah  writes.]  Got  it? 
Right.  [Takes  the  card.]  As  if  I'd  have  that 
interfering  old  fool  of  a  Marquis  worrying  me 
here  to-morrow  .  .  . 


92  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Lady  Mah  \_outraged^.  "Interfering  old 
fool" ! 

Blanche.  Aaron  darling,  run  off  with  that  to 
the  post  office  at  once,  will  you?  And  be  sure 
to  copy  it  out  correctly  on  to  the  form. 

Aaron.     Yes,  yes. 

Lady  Mah  [^appealingly^.     Aaron! 

Blanche  [^sincerely  reproachful^.  Kitty,  Kitty! 
You  mustn't  call  people  by  their  Christian  names 
like  that.  One  would  think  you  were  engaged 
to  him  yourself.  Don't  wait,  Aaron.  I  say, 
Aaron.  Better  not  come  back.  \^She  waves  him 
a  kiss.li 

Aaron  [positively;  with  evident  relief  at  being 
able  to  get  away~\.    I  shall  not.  [Exit.^ 

Lady  Mab  [in  a  new  decided  tone^ .  I'm  going 
— this  instant. 

Blanche.     Where  to? 

Lady  Mab.    Back  to  town. 

Blanche  [kimdly^.     I  won't  permit  it. 

Lady  Mab.    You  can't  stop  it. 

Blanche.     You  haven't  got  any  money. 

Lady  Mab.    Yes,  I  have. 

Blanche.  My  poor  forgetful  child!  Don't 
you  remember  I  borrowed  every  shilling  you  had- 
on  you  before  we  started? 

[Lady  Mab  gives  a  great  hysterical  squeal  of 
anger  and  despair,  and  drops  on  to  an  arm- 
chair.^ 


ACT  III  93 

Blanche.  That's  better.  That  will  ease  you. 
Try  to  cry,  my  dear. 

[Enter  Mrs.  Clews.^ 

Mrs.  Clews.  Whatever's  amiss?  Whatever's 
amiss? 

Blanche  [stroking  Lady  3/a&].  It  will  be  quite 
all  right  in  a  minute,  Mrs.  Clews.  Poor  Kitty 
came  down  because  she  thought  I  might  want 
her.  And  she  oughtn't  to  have  come.  The  strain 
was  too  much  for  her.  She  has  these  fits  some- 
times. A  form  of  hysteria.  [In  a  lower  voice. '\ 
She  has  delusions.  It'll  soon  pass.  We  must  get 
her  to  bed. 

Mrs.  Clews  [gently'].  There,  there,  Miss 
Crane!  [Aside  to  Blanche.]  I  should  suggest 
some  castor-oil 

CUETAIN 


SCENE  II 

Time:  Late  the  next  afternoon. 
Enter  Blanche  and  Mrs.  Clews,  followed  by  the 
Parlourmaid.    Blanche  and  Mrs.  Clews  drop 
into   chairs  in  attitudes   of   exhaustion. 

Mrs.  Clews.  What  a  day  of  it!  .  .  .  Well, 
Betsy,  has  cook  come  back? 

Parlourmaid.  Oh,  yes,  'm.  She  hurried  up 
th'  hill  till  she's  all  throbbing. 

Mrs.  Clews.  Here,  take  this.  [Gives  Parlour- 
maid a  garment.^     Did  cook  like  it? 

Parlourmaid.  She  dared  na  stay  till  th'  end, 
m'm;  but  she  stayed  till  th'  end  o'  Lady  Mab's 
speech,  and  she  says  it  was  beautiful,  especially 
the  last  bit. 

Mrs.  Clews.    The  last  bit? 

Blanche.  The  bit  where  I  tried  to  do  the  Mid- 
land accent,  I  expect.  [To  Parlourmaid.^  You 
must  tell  cook  I  take  it  as  a  great  compliment — 
from  her,  Betsy. 

Parlourmaid.     Oh,  I  will,  me  lady. 

Mrs.  Clews.  "Tried  to  do  the  Midland  ac- 
cent." You  did  it  better  than  I  could  have  done 
it  myself.     It  was  the  most  delicious  surprise  for 

94 


ACT  III  95 

all  of  us.  [To  Parlourmaid.']  I  hope  you've 
been  looking  after  Miss  Crane. 

Farlourmaid.  Oh,  yes,  'm.  Her  was  for  get- 
ting up. 

Mrs.  Clews.  Getting  up,  was  she?  Did  she 
get  up? 

Parlourmaid.  Her  started  to  get  up,  'm.  But 
I  went  out  o'  the  room  and  locked  th'  bedroom 
door  on  th'  outside. 

Mrs.  Clews.  Locked  the  door!  Wliatever 
were  you  thinking  of,  my  girl? 

Parlourmaid.  Ye  told  me  I  wasn't  on  no  ac- 
count to  let  Miss  Crane  get  up.  I  couldn't  stop 
her  from  getting  up,  but  says  I  to  myself,  "I 
can't  stop  ye  from  getting  up,  but  I  can  stop  ye 
from  coming  out,  miss,"  and  I  did.  What  was 
the  last  words  ya  said  to  me,  m'm?  "I  leave  ye 
in  charge,  Betsy,"  ye  said. 

BlancJie  [alarmed  but  amused],  I'd  better  go 
upstairs  and  see  Kitty. 

Parlourmaid.  Ye  better  hadn't,  my  lady. 
Her's  asleep  again  now.  I  unlocked  th'  door  and 
looked  in. 

Mrs.  Clews.  Well,  you're  a  nice  sort  of  girl, 
I  must  say,  Betsy !  Did  Miss  Crane  say  any- 
thing? 

Parlourm.aid.  Well,  she  did  say  a  few  things, 
m'm.  But  I  didna'  catch  much,  what  with  it  be- 
ing through  th'  door  and  her  talking  so  funny. 

Mrs.  Clews.    Talking  so  funny? 


96  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Parlourmaid.  The  way  her  talks,  m'm  [imita- 
ting London  accent^.     Ow,  now! 

Blanche.    Like  me,  you  mean? 

Parlourmaid.     Oh!    Worse  than  you,  my  lady. 

Mrs.  Clews.  Well,  that  will  do  for  the  mo- 
ment, Betsy.     We've  had  tea  at  the  Town  Hall. 

Parlourmaid.     Thank  ye,  m'm. 

Mrs.  Clews.     Take  Lady  Mab's  things. 

Parlourmaid.     Yes,  'm.  \_Exit.^ 

Mrs.  Clews.  I  really  must  apologise  to  you 
for  that  maid  locking  Miss  Crane  in.  I  never 
heard  of  such  a  thing!  But  the  worst  of  Betsy 
is  she  always  will  do  a  bit  more  than  she's  told. 

Blanche.  You  know  as  well  as  I  do  it's  side- 
splittingly  funny. 

Mrs.  Clews.  Well,  it  is.  But  what  will  Miss 
Crane  think? 

Blanche.  Oh!  Don't  trouble  about  Kitty. 
I'll  attend  to  Kitty. 

Mrs.  Clews.  I  do  wish  she'd  been  able  to  be 
at  the  lunch  and  the  ceremony  and  the  tea.  She'd 
have  enjoyed  your  success  ever  so  much. 

Blanche  [enigmatically^.     Wouldn't  she! 

Mrs..  Clews.  Eh,  but  I'm  pleased  it  wasn't  a 
bazaar.  I  can't  bear  bazaars.  They're  the 
stupidest  way  of  raising  money  I  ever  struck  in 
my  born  days. 

Blanche.  How  I  agree  with  you!  A  bazaar 
is  always  the  grave  of  a  reputation. 


ACT  III  97 

Mrs.  Clews.  You've  made  your  reputation 
down  here,  anyhow,  for  ever  and  ever. 

Blanche.     Have  I? 

Mrs.  Clews  [laughing  to  herself].  Oh!  Some 
of  the  faces  when  you  were  hitting  them  imder 
the  ribs  in  your  speech.  But  they  all  had  to 
laugh.  You  simply  carried  them  off  their  feet — 
everybody ! 

[The  sound  of  an  approachmg  band  is  heard  in 
the  distance,  at  first  very  faintly.] 

Blanche.  Well,  they  carried  me  off  my  feet. 
I'm  so  glad  of  a  bit  of  quiet  after  it  all.     [Sighs.] 

Mrs.  Clews.  I'm  gladder,  I  can  tell  you  that! 
We  might  have  had  half  the  Town  Council  in 
the  house  by  this  time  if  you  hadn't  been  so 
clever.  "She's  a  wise  'un,"  I  said  to  myself  when 
you  whispered  to  me  to  have  the  car  sent  round 
to  the  side-door  of  the  Town  Hall. 

Blanclie.  I'm  not  so  wise  as  all  that,  Mrs. 
Clews.     I'm  quite,  quite  mad,  if  you  really  knew. 

Mrs.  Clews.  Well,  we  could  do  with  a  bit  more 
madness  of  your  sort.  [With  a  movement.] 
You'll  excuse  me  if  I  speak  frankly.  Until  I  met 
you  I  always  thought  you  were  quite  mad. 

Blanche.    Oh!    Why? 

Mrs.  Clews.  Well,  from  what  I  read  in  the 
papers.  I  dreaded  your  coming  here.  But  I  was 
determined  to  have  you.  I'm  very  determined,  I 
am. 


98  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Blanche.  And  d'jou  know,  I  dreaded  coming 
here. 

Illrs.  Clews  \^sIigJitly  taJien  ahacJc^.  You  did? 
I  iiope  you've  been  comfortable. 

Blanche.  Oh,  Mrs.  Clews,  I've  loved  it.  But 
perhaps  it  hasn't  occurred  to  3'ou  that  all  houses 
of  provincial  mayors  aren't  like  3'ours.  In  some 
houses  jou  don't  have  your  boots  cleaned,  you 
have  them  licked — all  the  time.  I  hate  that.  And 
then  you're  shown  off  from  morning  to  night  like 
a  prize  cow.  I  hate  that,  too.  But  I've  never 
had  m}'  boots  licked  here,  and  you've  not  shown 
me  off  once. 

Mrs.  Clews.  Well,  it  never  struck  me  in  that 
light,  but  I  see  what  you  mean. 

Blanche.  You  talk  about  the  papers.  But  can 
I  help  the  papers?  Do  j'ou  know  that  there's 
no  law  to  prevent  a  newspaper  photographer 
taking  a  snapshot  of  you  whenever  he  feels  in- 
clined? 

Mrs.  Clews.  I  should  like  to  catch  'em  trying 
to  take  a  snapshot  of  7ne!     I'd  snapshot  'em. 

Blanche.  You  see,  I  move  in  a  world  of  mar- 
quises and  millionaires.  Always  did.  And  it's  a 
very  queer  world. 

Mrs.  Clews  [emphatically^.  It  must  be.  It 
seems  to  me  as  if  you'd  always  got  to  be  at  some 
"do." 

Blanche.  Quite  true.  Now  your  husband's  an 
auctioneer,  and  he  collects  pictures  and  things,  so 


ACT  III  99 

you'll  understand — [breaking  off].     What's  that 
music? 

Mrs.  Cler£>s.  I  expect  it's  the  band  that  played 
at  the  stone-laj-ing — the  Burslcy  Town  Silver 
Prize  Band.  What  were  you  saying  about  auc- 
tions ? 

Blanche.  Will  you  believe  me  that  in  my 
world  it's  the  correct  thing  to  go  to  all  the  big 
auction-sales  at  Christie's.    One  simply  has  to  go. 

Mrs.  CleTcs.    But  why? 

Blanche.  Well,  to  be  in  the  swim.  One  can't 
avoid  it.  You  hate  bazaars,  but  you  go  to  them, 
don't  you? 

Mrs.  Clews.  Ah!  But  you  see,  I'm  the 
Mayoress. 

Blanche.  Yes.  I  was  forgetting  that.  Still,  I 
assure  you  we  all  have  social  obligations, 

Mrs.  Clews.  How  odd!  Then  there's  another 
thing.  You  people  seem  always  to  be  at  the  big 
divorce  cases  and  things. 

Blanche.  Because  our  friends  are  always  in 
them. 

Mrs.  Clews.  But  you  aren't  married.  Lady 
Mab! 

Blanche.  Oh!  That  makes  no  difference — in 
my  world.  Besides,  I'm  engaged.  And  then  I 
know  all  the  judges.  And  supposing  a  judge 
asks  me  at  dinner  whether  I'd  like  a  ticket  for  a 
certain  case.     I  couldn't  offend  him  by  refusing. 

Mrs.  Clews.    Why  not? 


100  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Blanche.  Doesn^t  do  to  offend  a  judge.  You 
never  know  what  may  turn  up. 

Mrs.  Clews  [rather  shocked^.    Nay,  nay! 

Blanche.  I'm  only  telling  you  to  show  you  how 
difficult  the  position  of  a  girl  like  me  is. 

Mrs.  Clews.  Well,  I  suppose  every  one  has 
their  own  troubles.  But  I'll  say  this — ^you're  too 
good  for  your  world. 

[Enter  Mr.  Clews.'] 
[The  sound  of  the  hand  is  now  quite  loud.] 

Mr.  Views.    Well,  folks ! 

Mrs.  Clews.  Ezra,  what's  that  band  coming 
up  this  way  for.''     Is  it  going  to  the  station.'' 

Mr.  Clews.  It's  going  to  no  station,  missis. 
It's  coming  into  your  garden.  And  there's  about 
a  couple  of  thousand  people  following  it. 

31  rs.  Clews.    What  for? 

Mr.  Clews.  Well,  why  do  people  follow  a  band? 
This  one's  set  on  serenading  Lady  Mab.  [To 
Lady  Mab,]  You  ran  off,  and  the  band's  com- 
ing after  you,  that's  all. 

Blanche.    Oh  dear! 

Mrs.  Clews.  It's  a  pity  we  can't  have  a  bit 
of  peace.  You  ought  to  have  stopped  it.  You 
can  see  Lady  Mab  doesn't  like  it. 

Mr.  Clews.  It's  your  own  fault,  Lady  Mab. 
You  shouldn't  have  made  yourself  so  popular. 
But,  my  word!  You've  given  my  Health  Insti- 
tute a  leg  up  in  the  world;  and  I  thank  ye  with 
all  my  heart.    Your  recipe  for  popularity  worked 


ACT  III  101 

like  a  charm.     It  was   infallible,  right  enough. 

Blanche.     My  recipe  for  popularity? 

Mr.  Clews.  Yes.  Yesterday  afternoon  you 
told  me  you'd  got  an  infallible  recipe  for  popular- 
it}^,  and  by  gum  you  had.  I  never  saw  such  an 
effect  as  j'ou  made  when  you  began  to  talk  to 
'em  in  their  o\vn  dialect. 

Blanche.  But  that  wasn't  my  recipe  for  popu- 
larity. 

Mr.  Clews.     Wasn't  it? 

Blanche.  I  haven't  used  my  infallible  recipe 
for  popularity  yet.     Haven't  wanted  it. 

Mr.  Clews.    Well,  you  won't  want  it  now. 

Blanche.     Oh !    I  may  use  it  3^et. 
[^The  band,  having  grown  very  loud,  comes  to  the 
end  of  its  tune,  and  the  nmrmiir  of  people 
is  heard. '\ 

Mrs.  Clews  [^who  had  put  her  fingers  to  her 
ears^.    Thank  goodness ! 

Mr.  Clews  [going  to  the  window^.  Yes,  but 
look  here.  Something's  got  to  be  done  about 
this.  The  people  '11  soon  be  all  over  your  flower- 
beds, missis,  and  there's  about  a  million  of  'em 
in  the  park  beyond. 

Mrs.  Clews.  Eh,  Lady  Mab.  You've  a  lot  to 
answer  for. 

[^Blanche  goes  to  the  window  and  looJcs  out,  hy  the 
side  of  Mr.  Clews.  Cheering  is  immediately 
heard,  and  cries  of  "Lady  Mab,'*  "That's 
her,''  "Speech."    Blanche  shakes  her  head.'\ 


102  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Mr.  Clews.  Nay.  You'll  have  to  say  some- 
thing. Lady  Mab,  or  they'll  pull  the  house  down. 
They're  very  hearty  in  this  district. 

Voices.  Speech!  Give  us  a  bit  o'  th'  right 
sort. 

Blanche  [to  the  crowd  below'].  My  kind  friends, 
I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you  all,  but  I  said  all 
I  had  to  say  this  afternoon.  If  I  said  it  again 
you  might  lynch  me,  and  I'm  not  quite  ready  for 
lynching. 

[Laughter  below."] 

Voice.  Give  us  a  bit  o'  Staffordshire,  wench. 
Summat  as  us  can  understand. 

Voice.    Good  owd  Mab! 

Blanche  [imitating  the  local  accent].  So  it's 
good  owd  Mab,  is  it?  Eh,  there's  been  a  lot 
o'  flattery  this  day.  There's  been  a  lot  o'  but- 
tering up.  I'm  none  so  fond  o'  buttering  up, 
mysen.  I  towd  all  your  nobs  a  thing  or  two  this 
afternoon.  And  I'll  tell  you  a  thing  or  two  now, 
and  don't  say  ye  havena'  asked  for  it.  I  went 
over  one  o'  yer  pot-works  this  morning  at  nine 
o'clock,  and  it  was  very  white.  Then  I  went 
down  one  o'  yer  coal-pits  at  eleven  o'clock,  and 
it  was  very  black.  [Laughter.]  I  was  afeard  I 
should  never  come  up  again,  and  when  I  come 
up  I  was  that  like  a  nigger  as  my  husband  as  is 
to  be  wouldna'  ha'  kno^vii  me.  [Laughter.]  Then 
I  put  on  my  best  Surxlay  togs  and  I  were  oif  to 
th'   stone-laying.      So   ye  may  say   as  I've   seen 


ACT  III  103 

your  town.  Eh,  but  you're  a  grand  folk.  And 
it's  a  grand  town.  But  it's  rare  and  dirty;  that 
it  is.  They  dunna  give  soap  and  scrubbing- 
brushes  away  in  this  town.  \^Laughter.^  I've 
heard  a  lot  o'  grumbling  about  the  ToAvn  Council. 
I'll  be  bound  it's  as  good  a  council  as  there  is  in 
England,  but  if  ye  want  a  better  ye'll  have  yer 
chance  at  th'  next  election.  Who  makes  th'  Town 
Council  if  it  isna'  yeselves?  Put  some  women 
on  it.  ICheers.li  Put  th'  Mayoress  on  it.  She's 
got  more  sense  than  ten  men.  \^Cheers.^ 

Voice.     Down  with  aristocrats ! 

Blanche.     What's  that.? 

Voice.     Down  with  aristocrats! 

Blandie  \^London  accent^.  Well,  supposing 
my  father  was  a  marquis?  What  about  it?  I 
didn't  choose  my  father,  you  know;  but  I'm 
proud  of  him.     \Cheers.'\ 

Voices.      Down    with    profiteers!      Share    and 
share  alike! 
[Lady  Mah  enters  unobserved  in  a  dressing-gown.^ 

Blanche  [pointing  helow].  It's  you  there,  is 
it,  who  are  talking  about  share  and  share  alike. 
You  with  a  grey  cap  like  a  tail-end  of  a  dish- 
cloth. [Laughter.']  Have  you  got  anything  of 
your  own?  Did  you  buy  any  Victory  Bonds,  by 
any  chance? 

Voices.  Go  it,  Mab!  He's  got  fifty  pounds' 
worth  o'  Victory.  Bought  it  at  the  post  office 
on  th'  last  day. 


104*  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Blanche.  Got  fifty  pounds'  worth,  has  he? 
Well,  let  him  act  on  his  own  principles  and  share 
it  out.     Now  then,  out  with  it,  my  friend. 

Voices.     Good  owd  Mab! 

Blanche.  He  isn't  unbuttoning  his  pockets, 
I  see.  Well,  I'll  set  him  the  example.  I've  got 
more  than  fifty  pounds'  worth  of  Victory  Bonds. 
I've  got  twenty-five  thousand  pounds'  Avorth. 
And  here  they  are.  \^She  produces  the  scrip. 
Then  in  local  accent.^  I  keep  'em  in  me  bodice 
for  safety.  [^London  accent.^  I  brought  them 
down  with  me  on  purpose.  Thej^'re  bearer  bonds 
and  they're  as  good  as  money.  And  I'm  going 
to  give  them  to  your  Health  Institute  because  I 
believe  in  health  institutes,  and  I  believe  in  you. 
Mr.  Mayor,  please  take  them,  with  my  best 
wishes.  \_She  hands  the  scrip  to  Mr.  Clews. 
Aside  to  Mr.  Clews.^  That's  my  recipe  for  pop- 
ularity. 

Lady  Mab  \_coming  forward,  to  Blanche,  fran- 
tically.1  Do  you  know  that's  my  last  penny  in 
the  world.'' 

l^Loud  cheering,  which  continues  after  the  fall  of 
the  curtain.  The  hand  begins  to  play  "For 
he's  a  jolly  good  fellow."^ 

CURTAIN 


ACT  IV 


SCENE :   SAME  AS  ACT  I 

Time:    Morning  of  tlw  next   day  hut   one. 

Lady  Mob  is  alone,   looling  through   a  'pile  of 
press-cuttings.      Tlie  roam  has   been  disor- 
dered by  the  operation  of  packing. 
Enter  Aaron,  bach. 

Lady  Mab,  •without  taking  any  notice  of  him, 
quietly  drops  the  press-cuttings  and  resumes 
her  packing. 

Aaron  [collecting  himself].  Good  morning, 
Mab.  I  dare  say  you  know — the  waiters  are  on 
strike,  so  I  had  to  announce  myself. 

[Lady  Mab  bows  and  then  ignores  him.'] 
Aaron  [more  firmly].   Good  moraing,  my  dear. 

[Lady  Mab  ignores  him.] 
Aaron  [still  more  firndy].     Good  morning,  my 
adorned  goddess. 

[Lady  Mab  ignores  him.] 
Aaron.      An    affection    of    the    throat?  .  .  . 
Quinsy?     No?      [He  approaches  her.     She  mo- 
tions  him  away.]      Ah!      Something  contagious. 
[Lady  Mab  ignores  him.] 
105 


106  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Aaron.  In  a  crisis  like  this  the  great  danger 
is  the  danger  of  being  stupid  and  conventional. 
The  great  safeguard  is  to  remember  that  I  am 
not  a  character  in  a  novel,  but  a  living  man  who 
has  just  had  bacon  and  eggs  for  breakfast.  A 
character  in  a  novel  would  certainly  say:  "I'm 
sorry  I'm  de  trop,"  and  he  would  depart  with 
sham  dignity.  I  shan't  say  I'm  sorry  I'm  de 
trop,  and  I  shan't  depart.  .  .  .  Mab,  where  is 
your  famous  politeness.''  .  .  .  Mab,  don't  behave 
like  a  foolish  capricious  aristocrat.  .  .  ,  Mab, 
don't  be  a  damned  fool. 

{^Exit  Lady  Mab,  l,.,  carrying  something  into  the 
next  room.^ 

Aaron  [with  restraint  and  with  about  twenty 
per  cent,  of  humour  in  his  tone^.  Leave  that  door 
open  or  I'll  break  it  in.  [Approaching  ike  door.~\ 
You  shall  suffer  for  this,  you  ridiculous  little 
sulking  schoolgirl.  What's  the  origin  of  this  silly 
circus.''  Is  it  because  I  haven't  written  to  you.'* 
I  didn't  know  how  to  address  the  envelope.  Is 
it  because  I  put  myself  to  the  trouble  of  warn- 
ing you  about  your  preposterous  uncle?  No. 
You  were  jolly  grateful.  [A  noise  of  something 
falling  in  the  next  room.']  Serves  you  right. 
You  should  have  asked  me  to  help  you.  .  .  . 
Is  it  because  I  didn't  support  you  in  the  scrap 
with  Blanche  Nixon  down  at  Bursley?  Rot! 
You  gave  me  a  part  to  play,  and  I  played  it. 
And  that's  more  than  you  can  say  for  yourself. 


ACT  IV  107 

my  girl.  [Lady  Mab  re-enters  with  boxes. '\  And 
don't  3'ou  imagine  you  can  come  the  society 
darling  over  me,  because  you  can't.  I  back 
myself  to  keep  on  talking  longer  than  you  can 
hold  3^our  tongue — your  scandalous  little  forked 
tongue.  And,  if  necessary,  I'll  assault  you.  And 
it'll  be  no  use  your  ringing  because  there  aren't 
any  manly  Corsican  waiters  to-day  to  come  to 
your  rescue.  \^Lady  Mab  continues  her  packing.^ 
Only  three  days  ago  j'ou  wanted  me  to  save 
your  soul  and  to  help  you  to  fulfil  yourself.  You 
wanted  to  be  my  bally  doormat.  \^Lady  Mab  is 
now  standing  quite  still.^  And  now  you  seem 
determined  to  be  Lot's  wife.  Well,  you  aren't 
Lot's  wife.  You're  my  fiancee.  And  anyhow 
I'm  not  Lot. 

\^Lady  Mab  suddenly  picks  half  a  sheet  of  writ- 
ing-paper off  the  table  and  hands  it  to  hini.^ 
Aaron.  Ah!  \^Reading.^  "Copy.  The  mar- 
riage arranged  between  Mr.  Aaron  Draper  and 
Lady  Mab  Infold  will  not  take  place."  Oh! 
Notice  in  writing  to  quit!  Otherwise  the  simple 
chuck!    Why?    If  I'm  not  too  inquisitive. 

Lady  Mab  [removing  the  engagement  ring  from 
her  finger.     Very  politely^.     I  can't  return  the 

presents  because  there  haven't  been  any 

Aaron.  Ah!  At  last.  I  knew  I  could  keep 
on  talking  longer  than  you  could  hold  your 
tongue. 


108  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Lady  Mah.  Except  this  of  course.  [He  takes 
the  ring.^ 

Aaron,  Well,  as  to  there  being  no  presents, 
you'll  admit  that  in  the  limited  period  at  my 
disposal  I  couldn't  do  very  much  in  the  gift  line, 
could  I? 

Lady  Mah.  No,  of  course  not.  I'm  not  com- 
plaining. 

Aaron  [  sardonic  all  yl.  That's  very  sweet  of 
you.  But  I  am.  I  asked  you  a  question  and 
you  haven't  answered  it.  Why  this  dramatic 
rupture.'' 

Lady  Mah.     I  trusted  you,  and  you  failed  me. 

Aaron.     What.? 

Lady  Mah.  I've  made  a  fool  of  m.yself  over 
this  business  of  Blanche  Nixon.  I'm  humiliated. 
I'm  in  a  devil  of  a  fix.     And  it's  3^our  fault. 

Aaron.     How  is  it  my  fault.'' 

Lady  Mah.  You  ought  to  have  stopped  me 
from  doing  it. 

Aaron.  Didn't  I  try  to  stop  3'OU?  You 
wouldn't  listen  to  me. 

Lady  Mah.  That  simply  shows  you're  lack- 
ing in  strength  of  character.  I've  been  fatally 
disappointed  in  you. 

Aaron.  Well,  I'm  dashed  if  that  isn't  more 
like  a  woman  than  anything  I've  ever  heard. 

Lady  Mah.  And  if  it  is  like  a  woman.''  Did 
you  want  me  to  be  unwomanly.''  Besides,  you're 
glad  to  be  released  from  your  engagement. 


ACT  IV  109 

Aaron.  I'm  one  of  the  toys  you've  throwii 
away,  but  I   admit  I'm  not   a   broken   toy. 

Lady  Mah.  My  poor  toy,  somebody  else  has 
picked  you  up  again  already. 

Aaron.     Oh!     Who? 

Lady  Mah.  The  woman  who  was  alwa^'s  kiss- 
ing you. 

Aaron.  So  thafs  the  real  reason,  is  it.'' 
[Laughs   harshly.Ji 

Lady  Mah.  It's  one  of  the  real  reasons,  of 
course. 

Aaron.  But,  hang  it,  can't  you  see  you  gave 
me  a  part  to  pla}^  and  I  had  to  play  it.  In  fact, 
I  played  my  part  a  damned  sight  better  than 
you  played  yours. 

Lady  Mah.  You  over-acted  it,  Mr.  Draper. 
You  and  your  lady  friend  seemed  to  me  to  spend 
practically  the  whole  time  in  each  other's  arms. 

Aaron.     There's  just  one  thing 

Lady  Mah.  Yes,  there  is.  And  it's  my  pack- 
ing. .  ,  .  I've  sent  that  notice  to  the  Morning 
Post  and  the  Times.  Good-bye.  \^Exit,  l., 
seizing  some  things  as  she  goes,  and  hanging  the 
door.'\ 

[^Aaron  whistles  a  tune."] 

[Enter  Blanche,  haclc.'\ 

[Aaron  does  not  at  first  perceive  her.^ 

Blanche.      Good   morning,   Mr.   Draper. 

Aaron.  Oh!  Er — Miss  Nixon.  Good  morn- 
ing. .  .  .  I — er — was   just   whistling. 


110  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Blanche  \^as  they  shake  hands^.  Forgive  my 
curiosity.  But  what  was  that  tune  you  were 
whistling? 

Aaron.     The  tune  the  old  cow  died  of. 

Blanche.  I  thought  it  must  be.  I  ought  to 
apologise  for  interrupting,  but  thanks  to  the 
waiters'  strike  I  had  to  announce  myself.  Is 
Lady  Mab  in? 

Aaron.     Very  much.     In  fact,  she's  all  in. 
[They  look  at  each  other.    Blanche  sits  down  in 
front  of  the  press-cuttings,  and  begins  idly 
to  turn  them  over.^ 

Blanche.      I   see   she's   got   her  press-cuttings. 

Aaron  [vaguely^.     Yes. 

Blanche.  I  suppose  you're  both  very  angry 
with  me  for  what  I  did. 

Aaron.  Why?  Have  you  been  doing  any- 
thing particular? 

Blanche.  Now  please,  Mr.  Draper!  The  last 
two  or  three  times  you  and  I  met  we  each  of  us 
had  a  part  to  play. 

Aaron.     Well,  we  played  our  parts. 

Blanche.  We  did.  But  the  piece  is  now  over, 
and  we  needn't  play  any  longer. 

Aaron.     I'm  not  plaj'ing. 

Blanche.  Then  why  do  you  ask  with  that 
innocent  air  whether  I  did  anything  particular? 

Aaron.     For  infomiation. 

Blanche.    But  it  was  all  in  yesterday's  papers. 

Aaron.     Yes.     I  suppose  so.     That  was  why 


ACT  IV  111 

I  took  care  not  to  look  at  j^esterday's  papers. 
I'm  quite  sure  you'll  understand  me,  Miss  Nixon, 
when  I  tell  you  that  I  was  very  uneas}^  about 
the  whole  business,  and  somehow  I  didn't  want 
to  look  at  yesterday's  papers.  So  I  didn't.  I 
stopped  at  a  hotel  in  Rugby  by  myself,  and  came 
back  to  town  late  last  night  when  I  knew  every- 
thing would  be  over. 

Blanche.     And  Lady  Mab  hasn't  told  you? 

Aaron.  Yes.  She's  told  me  a  number  of 
rather  exciting  things,  but  not  a  word  about  the 
stone-laying. 

Blanche  [with  a  gesture  of  astonishment^. 
You're  wounded. 

Aaron.     Not  mortally. 

Blanche.  Then  if  you  really  think  you  can 
stand  it,  3^ou'd  better  look  at  that.  [She  passes 
a  full-page  cutting  from  the  Daily  Mirror.]  Quite 
a  casual  glance  will  do. 

Aaron  [glancing  at  the  paper}.  "Lady  Mab 
as  social  reformer.  Society  beauty's  munificent 
gift "    It's  not  true ! 

Blanche.     Too  true. 

Aaron.     Twenty-five  thou [Blanche  nods. 

Aaron  bursts  info  loud  laughter.]  But  how  did 
you  manage  to 

Blanche.  The  Victory  Bond  certificates  hap- 
pened to  come  in  on  the  morning  we  left,  and  I 
happened  to  take  them  with  me.  And  then — then 
— I  happened  to  give  them  away  to  the  Health 


112  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Institute.  ...  It  came  over  me  all  of  a  sudden. 
The  curious  thing  is,  I  don't  regret  it.  [Aaron 
laughs  out  loudly  again.'\  Mr.  Draper  \henev- 
olently^y  don't  be  hysterical. 

Aaron.     I  should  hope  you  don't  regret  it. 

Blanche.  But  don't  you?  [Maliciously.^ 
Lady  Mab  seems  to  regret  it.  In  fact,  she  and 
I  travelled  to  London  in  separate  motor-cars 
yesterday. 

Aaron.  Miss  Nixon,  believe  me,  I — do — ^not — 
regret  it.  In  this  highly  dangerous  comedy  of 
ours  you  played  your  part  magnificentl}^,  and 
the  final  stroke  amounted  to  genius.  Let  me  con- 
gratulate you.  You  have  been  tremendous.  [Very 
earnestly.^  You  are  tremendous.  I've  never 
seen  a  woman  like  you 

Blanche  [interrupting  /ww].  Mr.  Draper,  Mr. 
Draper!  Please  remember  what  I  said  a  moment 
ago. 

Aaron.     What  was  that.? 

Blanche.  The  comedy  is  over.  We  needn't 
play  any  more.  What  would  Lady  Mab  think 
if  she  saw  her  3^oung  man 

Aaron  [interrupti7ig^.  Stop!  [He  gives  her 
the  copy  of  the  notice  to  the  newspapers.^ 

Blanche  [reading  it^.     I'm  very  sorry. 

Aaron  [curtly^.  Why  should  you  be  sorry .f* 
.  .  .  Good-bye!     I'm  off. 

Blanche  [taking  his  outstretched  hand^. 
But 


ACT  IV  113 

Aaron  [movedl.     Well? 

BlancJie.  Then  we  shan't  see  one  another 
again  ? 

Aaron.     That  depends  on  you. 

[Enter  Lady  Mob  m  street  attire.] 

Lady  Mab  [seeing  them  hand  in  hand].  Natu- 
rally! 

Blanche  [calmly  and  benevolently].  Oh!  Good 
morning.  I  was  just  telling  Mr.  Draper  how 
sorry  I  am  to  hear  that  the  end  has  come.  And 
so  soon  too ! 

Lady  Mab  [trying  to  adopt  a  tone  similar  to 
Blanche's].  Our  engagement!  Well,  I'm  sure 
Mr.  Draper  will  appreciate  your  sympathy  more 
than  anj^body  else's. 

Blanche.       I     hope     I'm     not     the     innocent 


cause- 


Lady  Mab  [smiling].  My  dear  Miss  Nixon, 
how  could  you  be  the  innocent  cause?  Have 
you  come  to  see  me  or  Mr.  Draper? 

Blanche.     You. 

[Aaron  moves  to  leave.] 

Lady  Mah.   Where  are  you  going,  Mr.  Draper? 

Aaron.     Hell. 

Lady  Mab.  Postpone  hell  for  a  minute  or  two, 
will  you?  You're  in  this  affair,  and  I  think  you 
ought  to  hear  everything  that's  said.  You  don't 
mind,  do  you.  Miss  Nixon? 

Blanche.  Not  at  all.  I  just  looked  in  on  my 
way  from  business  to  return  these  clothes  of  yours 


114i  BODY  AND  SOUL 

and  to  get  the  things  I  left  here  a  few  evenings 
ago.  I  can't  possibly  appear  at  the  office  in  this. 
\Indicating  tJw  frock  she  is  wearing.^  Besides, 
it  doesn't  really  fit  me.  Let  me  see  now,  there 
was  the  frock  I  came  in,  and  some  stockings  and 
some  undies.  [Aaron  makes  another  move  to 
go.l  Steady  yourself,  Mr.  Draper,  steady  your- 
self.    And  a  bag. 

Lady  Mab.  But  surely  you  came  here  in  an 
evening  frock.     You  can't  go  to  business  in  that. 

Blanche.  I  brought  a  morning  dress  in  the 
bag. 

Lady  Mab.    Did  you?    Why.? 

Blanche.  Well,  it  has  always  been  my  motto 
that  one  thing  may  lead  to  another.  Lady  Mab. 

Lady  Mab.  Ah!  So  I'm  Lady  Mab  for  you 
at  last ! 

Blanche.     You  were  never  anything  else. 

Lady  Mab.  May  I  ask  when  you  first  realised 
that  I  was  myself? 

Blanche.  Certainly.  I  was  here,  and  Mr. 
Draper  was  standing  here,  and  the  typewriters 
were  there,  and  you  came  in  at  that  door,  and 
you  said:  "Good  morning,  I'm  Lady  Mab's 
secretary."  I  then  instantly  realised  that  you 
were  not  Lady  Mab's  secretary,  but  Lady  Mab 
herself. 

Lady  Mab.     But  how  did  you  guess.? 

Blanche.  Oh!  What  they  call  feminine  in- 
tuition— and   the   funny   way   Mr.   Drapes'  sort 


ACT  IV  115 

of  changed  from  a  man  into  a  sack  of  potatoes. 

Lady  Mob.  Then  all  through  there  never  was 
a  moment  when  you  were  not  acting? 

Blanche.     Never. 

Lady  Mah.     You  acted  most  frightfully  well. 

Blanche.  I  play  leads  in  the  Tumham  Green 
Amateur  Dramatic  Society. 

Lady  Mah.    Ah !    That  explains  it. 

Blanche.     I've  played  Rosalind. 

Lady  Mah.    Here  you've  played  Hamlet. 

Blanche.  Well,  Lady  Mab,  it  was  you  who 
said  you  were  somebody  else.  You  ought  to 
know.  It  wasn't  my  place  to  contradict  you.  I 
was  only  here  to  sell  t3^pewriting  machines.  But 
I  saw  you  wanted  a  game,  and  I  thought  I 
might  as  well  oblige  you. 

Lady  Mah.  Then  you  aren't  really  interested 
in  spiritualism  and  multiple  personality,  and  such 
things ! 

Blanclie.  Oh,  yes,  I  am — as  an  aid  to  busi- 
ness. 

Lady  Mah.    What  business? 

Blanche.     The  business  of  selling  typewriters. 

Aaron.  Miss  Nixon,  I  hereby  award  you  the 
cake. 

Lady  Mah  [calmly  and  sweetly'].  Well,  it  may 
interest  you  to  know  that  you've  ruined  me,  be- 
tween you.  {^Blanche  makes  a  movement.]  No! 
Don't  be  disturbed.  I  know  I've  been  in  a  very 
queer    state   up    to    this    morning.      But    I'm    all 


116  BODY  AND  SOUL 

right  now.  I'm  quite  curiously  all  right.  And 
I'm  ruined. 

Blanche  [innocently^.  Nineteenth  century, 
transfer  of  vote.  Twentieth  centurj^  transfer  of 
profit. 

Aaron.  How  are  you  ruined?  You've  got 
rid  of  £25,000  in  charity.  But  that  isn't  going 
to  ruin  me. 

Lady  Mob.  It  isn't  going  to  ruin  me.  It  has 
ruined  me.  I  doubt  if  I've  a  hundred  pounds  in 
the  world.  I  must  leave  these  expensive  rooms 
this  very  day.  That's  why  I'm  packing.  You 
see  I've  always  been  terribly  extravagant,  and 
I  hate  the  sight  of  pass-books.  I've  spent 
about  half  a  fortune  on  Procopo — and  he's  not 
in  the  least  grateful — geniuses  never  are — though 
I  dare  say  he'd  marry  me  if  I  asked  him. 

Aaron.  You  may  have  spent  half  a  fortune 
on  launching  Procopo,  and  squandered  what  was 
left  in  charity,  but  you're  still  related  to  about 
half  the  peerage,  and  your  magnificent  relatives 
will  never  let  you  starve. 

Lady  Mob  [proudly'].  I  shall  certainly  not 
carry  my  case  to  the  House  of  Lords.  I  have 
never  allowed  my  relatives  to  meddle  with  my 
private  misfortunes.     Independence  at  all  costs ! 

Blanche.     Quite  right. 

Lady  Mah.  No.  I'm  ruined.  My  marriage 
is  in  the  soup.  My  secretary  is  ill.  I've  never 
had  a  maid.     There's  a  strike  of  waiters.     I  ring. 


ACT  IV  117 

No  answer.  I  had  to  make  my  own  tea  this  morn- 
ing on  a  spirit-lamp,  and  it  was  very  bad,  and 
there  was  nothing  to  eat,  and  I've  run  out  of 
cigarettes.  And  that's  not  all.  I've  got  to  dis- 
appear. 

Aaron.     Disappear?     Why? 

Lady  Mah.  Because  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clews. 
I've  treated  them  inexcusably.  I  stopped  all 
photographs  of  the  stone-lajdng.  But  {indicat- 
ing press-cuttings^  look  at  all  these  stock  photo- 
graphs of  me  in  j'esterday's  papers.  What  a  good 
thing  we  left  Bursley  before  they  arrived!  Mrs. 
Clews  is  bound  to  have  seen  some  of  them.  In 
fact,  she's  bound  to  have  seen  all  of  them;  and 
as  she's  only  just  seen  us  she's  bound  to  come  to 
some  very  awkward  conclusions.  And  if  I  know 
anything  of  my  Mrs.  Clews  both  she  and  the 
Mayor  will  be  up  in  town  to-day  holding  an 
inquiry. 

Aaron.  Pity  you  didn't  think  of  all  this  be- 
fore. 

Lady  Mah.     Yes. 

Aaron.  However,  you  can  explain  things 
somehow. 

Lady  Mah.     But  how? 

Aaron.  I  don't  know.  You  told  me  a  few 
days   since  that  anything  could  be  explained. 

Lady  Mah.  I  was  forgetting  the  picture- 
papers;  and  I  hadn't  met  Mrs.  Clews.  No.  I 
must  disappear.     It's  all  very  well  for  you  [in- 


118  BODY  AND  SOUL 

dicating  Blanche^ — youVe  nobody.  You  can 
sink  back  safely  into  Turnham  Green ;  but  I'm 
Lady  Mab  Infold,  notorious  from  China  to  Peru. 
And  that  isn't  all  either.  The  worst  tiling  of 
all  is  that  I've  been  humiliated.  I  mean  I've 
humiliated  myself.  I've  lost  my  self-confidence. 
I  started  out  on  this  affair,  and  I  didn't  carry 
it  through.  I  know  it's  entirely  my  own  fault. 
I'm  only  telling  you  as  a  penance.  [Ingenuous- 
ly.~\     And  I'm  quite  nice  about  it,  aren't  I? 

Blanche.  You're  altogether  too  nice.  And 
it  isn't  entirely  your  fault.  The  Clewses  have 
been  treated  abominably,  and  for  that  I'm  just 
as  much  to  blame  as  you  are.  Of  course  you 
must  disappear. 

Lady  Mah.     I  must  become  a  mystery. 

Blanche.     You — [hesitates^ 

Lady  Mah.     Yes.? 

Blanche.  May  I  make  a  little  speech  .^^  .  .  . 
Well,  I  will.  But  first  of  all  here's  a  cigarette. 
Mr.  Draper,  light  it. 

Lady  Mab  [eagerly'\.    Oh,  thanks.    [Smolies.^ 

Blanche.  Lady  Mab,  you  are  not  ruined. 
On  the  contrary,  you  are  made.  You  reached 
the  zenith  of  your  career  yesterday.  Never  be- 
fore have  you  created  such  a  stir  in  the  public 
life  of  this  country.  Never  before  were  you  so 
gorgeously  on  the  map.  Your  speech  at  the  stone- 
laying,  and  your  glorious  gift  of  £25,000  to  the 
Bursley  Health  Institute,  have  thrilled  the  homes 


ACT  IV  119 

of  England  to  their  very  \^tals.     You  will  say 
that  it  was  I  who  did  these  things.     But  I  was 
only  the  instalment.     You  chose  me,  and  per- 
haps you  chose  brilliantly.     Who  am  I  to  say? 
You  are  free  of  Mr.  Aaron  Draper,  for  whom  you 
never  had  more  than  a  passing  fancy.    You  have 
discovered  your   own   shortcomings.     You  know 
yourself.    You  are  humble.     It  is  a  splendid  mo- 
ment for  you  to  vanish  and  to  become  somebody 
else   in   a   sense   far   deeper   than   Procopo   ever 
thought  of.    You  spoke  just  now  of  "independence 
at   all  costs."     But  you  have  never  been  inde- 
pendent.    You   can't    even  make   your   own   tea 
decently.     Come  out  with  me  and  achieve  inde- 
pendence.    You  once  told  me   you  hated  being 
an  amateur.     Come  out  with  me  and  cease  to  be 
an  amateur.     I  will  find  a  post  for  you  in  our 
office,  and  you  shall  learn  an  art  of  which  you 
are  still  most  beautifully  ignorant—the   art   of 
being  really  alive  and  really  independent.     Come 
out  with  me,  and  be  Jane  Smith.  .  .  .  Does  it 
appeal  to  you? 

Lady  Mob  [after  a  pause].    And  damn  all  my 
relatives. 

Blanche.     Most  decidedly. 
Lady  Mob  Irmhing  to  Blanche  and  embracing 
her].     I'll  come.     IKissing  her  again.]     What  an 
adventure !    When  do  wc  begin  ? 

Blanche.     As  you've  eaten  nothing,  we  begin 


120  BODY  AND  SOUL 

by  going  to  the  Lyons  in  St.  James's  Street  and 
having  a  jolly  good  breakfast. 

Lady  Mob.     How  ripping!     D'you  know  I've 
never  been  in  a  Lyons?     Will  you  come  in  here 
and  change  your  clothes? 
[Blanche  and  Lady  Mah  go  towards  the  door,  l.] 

Aaron.     And  what  price  me,  please? 

Blanche.  You  might  wait  and  carry  my  bag 
down  to  the  hall  for  us. 

[Exeunt  Blanche  and  Lady  Mah,  l.] 
[Aaron  whistles  to  himself.'] 
[Enter  the  Marquis  of  Wix.] 

Marquis.     Ah!     Good  morning,  my  dear  boy. 

Aaron  [glumly'].  Good  morning.  Lord  Wix. 
[They  shake  hands.] 

Marquis.  There  seems  to  be  a  strike  of  waiters 
in  this  place.  So  I  had  to  announce  myself.  I'm 
damned  old,  but  I  never  remember  having  to  do 
such  a  thing  before. 

Aaron.     No? 

Marquis.    Mab  in? 

Aaron  [cautiously].  She's  in  somewhere.  But 
she's  not  alone.     I  was  just  going. 

Marquis  [looking  at  him;  confidentially]. 
You're  feeling  a  bit  cheap  to-day,  Draper.  So 
am  I.  It's  probably  due  to  this  newly  imported 
champagne  that  one  meets  with  everywhere  just 
now.  Good  wine,  no  doubt;  excellent  for  French 
consumption;  but  not  properly  prepared  for  the 
English  market.     France  has  never  really  under- 


ACT  IV  121 

stood  champagne.  However,  there's  one  bright 
spot:  the  doctors  are  prescribing  port  for  gout. 

Aaron.     Indeed! 

Marquis  [si/s].  Now,  my  dear  boy,  you  are 
the  very  person  I  wanted  to  see. 

Aaron.     But 

Marquis  [^amiahly  waving  aside  interruption^. 
I  count  on  your  sagacity.  I  received  this  tele- 
gram from  J\lab  three  evenings  ago.  I  called  to 
see  her  last  night  about  it,  but  she  had  not  re- 
turned. I'd  much  sooner  see  you.  "My  sweetest 
uncle.  I  absolutely  forbid  you  to  come  here  to- 
morrow. If  you  do  I  will  make  a  scandal. — 
Mab." 

Aaron.     Well? 

Marquis.  I  pass  over  minor  questions.  For 
me  the  only  important  question  is  this.  I'm  go- 
ing to  speak  to  you  as  a  member  of  the  family 
with  the  utmost  frankness.  [With  emphasis.^ 
How  did  our  darling  capricious  Mob  know  that 
I  had  laid  myself  open  to  hlaclcmail?  I  foolishly 
imagined  that  nothing  whatever  had  got  abroad. 

Aaron  [with  a  sudden  change  of  tone.^ 
Marquis,  will  you  take  my  advice.'* 

Marquis.     1  will. 

Aaron  [urgently'\.  Then  go  away  at  once. 
This  is  not  the  moment.  Call  again  later — some 
other  time,  any  time;  but  don't  stay  now. 

Marquis.     But  really  I  should  like 

Aaron.     Go  instantly.     Don't  stay  a  second. 


122  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Marquis  [^rising,  perturbedj.   There  is  danger? 

Aaron    {^shepherding   him   towards   the  door^. 
Emphatically.     Good-bye.     [He  opens  the  door.li 
[Enter  Lady  Mab,  l.] 

Marquis  [outside  the  door].  Would  it  be  safe 
this  afternoon? 

Aaron.     I  think  so.     I'll  'phone.     Good-bye. 

Marquis.     Thanks,  my  dear  boy.     Thanks. 

[Exit.] 
[Aaron  shuts  the  door.] 

Lady  Mab.    Who  was  that? 

Aaron.  Your  uncle.  I  shifted  him  ofF  quick, 
so  that  3'ou  can  leave  unmolested ;  and  you  ought 
to  be  jolly  grateful  to  me. 

Lady  Mab.    What  did  he  want? 

Aaron.  That  telegram  he  got  from  Bursley 
threatening  a  scandal.  He's  taken  it  seriously. 
Been  up  to  something  naughty  and  thinks  you've 
found  out  about  it.  Fancies  you  may  prove  to 
be  a  kind  of  a  blackmail.  Wanted  to  explain. 
I  wouldn't  let  him. 

Lady  Mab  [after  a  peal  of  laughter].  Fetch 
him  back.    Fetch  him  back. 

Aaron.     I  won't. 

Lady  Mab  [rushing  to  the  door,  opening  it, 
and  crying  out].  Uncle!  Uncle!  Yes,  it's  Mab. 
[Turning  to  Aaron.]  You  are  a  pig.  [To  the 
approaching  Marquis.]  I'm  free  now,  uncle. 
How  are  you?  Come  in,  do.  [Enter  the  Marquis. 
She  shakes  hands  with  him.]     But  I  haven't  much 


ACT  IV  123 

time.  Sit  down  and  tell  me  your  version  of  this 
little  affair.     And  be  sure  you  tell  me  all. 

Marquis  \_seated,  rather  overset^.  Well,  per- 
haps  I   ought    to   begin   by   explaining 

Lady  Mah  [with  charming  imperiousness^.  No 
preliminaries.      This  isn't  the  House  of  Lords. 

Marquis.  My  dear  niece.  There  is  a  great 
American  lecture  agent  in  London  named  Paw- 
kins.  He  has  with  him  an  American  lady  secre- 
tary. Not  a  child,  but  attractive.  Excessively 
attractive.  Too  attractive.  Came  across  him — 
and  her — under   circumstances 

Lady  Mah.     Never  mind  the  circumstances. 

Marquis.  In  spite  of  the  fact  that  I  am  a 
widower  of  considerable  experience,  I  was  at- 
tracted— greatly.  I — er- — but  you  don't  want 
details  .  .  .  though  they  are  entirely  honourable. 
.  .  .  The  usual  complications.  .  .  .  After  a  time 
I  made  an  arrangement.  Whatever  you  may 
have  heard,  Mab,  that  is  the  whole  truth.  I 
wanted  you  to  know  the  facts  from  m3'^self.  Of 
course  I'm  sure  you  wouldn't  really  make  a 
scandal,  but  your  control  of  your  delicious  tongue 
is  sometimes  imperfect,  and  it  is  specially  impor- 
tant in  these  coal-mining  days  that  no  breath  of 
scandal  should  attach  to  an  owner  of  coal- 
royalties.  The  position  of  royalty-owners  is 
already  quite  prejudiced  enough. 

Lady  Mab.  Well,  uncle,  I  must  say  your  con- 
fession   surprises   me;   but   I'm    relieved   it's   no 


124.  BODY  AND  SOUL 

worse.    What    "arrangement"     did    you    make? 

Marquis.  Quite  simple.  I  undertook  to  use 
my  influence  to  get  a  few  Al  lecturers  for  the 
lecture-agency.  Mr.  Pawkins — and  secretary — 
are  going  back  with  a  remarkable  list  of  stars 
entirely  new  to  the  American  lecture-platform. 

Lady  Mob  \tlwughtfuV\.  Oh!  Whom  have 
you  got? 

Marquis.  Well,  various  very  important  per- 
sons. 

Lady  Mob.     But  whom,  for  instance? 

Marquis.   Well,  yesterday  I  got  your  Procopo. 

Lady  Mob.  You  got  Procopo?  Procopo  is 
leaving? 

Marquis.  Day  after  to-morrow,  with  Paw- 
kins;  on  the  Aquitania.  He  seemed  rather 
anxious  to  go  at  once.  Some  trouble  brewing  in 
the  Press,  I  gathered. 

Lady  Mob  [m  a  new  tone^.  Does  Pawkins  pay 
high  fees? 

Marquis.  Very.  And  you  see  that  my  work 
is  patriotic,  because  the  fees  paid  to  British  sub- 
jects help  to  correct  the  adverse  American  ex- 
change. 

Lady  Mab.  How  much  does  Pawkins  pay  for 
a  first-class  lecturer? 

Marquis.  Oh!  A  thousand  dollars  a  lecture 
— and  expenses. 

Lady  Mab  [gay  and  uplifted^.  Would  he  like 
to  have  me? 


ACT  IV  125 

Marquis.  He  would  undoubtedly  give  his  head 
to  get  you,  but  surel}'^  you  wouldn't  dream 

Lady  Mab.  Wouldn't  I?  He  shall  have  me. 
I'll  go  on  the  Aquitania.  Come  along  with  me 
at  once  and  let's  arrange  it,  uncle. 

Marquis.     But 

Lady  Mab.     But  what? 

Marquis.  You  can't  possibly  get  a  berth  on 
the  Aquitania. 

Lady  Mab.  Pooh!  I  can  always  get  what  I 
want.  You  must  fix  it  up  for  me.  Come  on! 
Come  on!     Not  a  moment  to  lose! 

Marquis.     But — er — Aaron. 

Aaron.     Don't  worry  about  me. 

Lady  Mab.  Please  do  not  interfere  between 
me  and  Mr.  Draper.  \Takim,g  the  Marquis  by  the 
arw.]     Now!     Here's  the  door.     See! 

Marquis.  Mab!  Mab!  What  next,  I  won- 
der. 

[Enter  Blanche  with  bag.'\ 

Lady  Mab  [pushing  Marquis  ouf].  Au  rcvoir, 
Miss  Nixon.  I've  decided  to  go  on  a  lecturing 
tour  in  the  United  States.  Must  run  off  now 
with  uncle  and  make  the  arrangements. 

[Exeunt  Lady  Mah  and  the  Marquis."] 

[Blanche  and  Aaron  stare  at  each  other.   Blanclie 

drops  the  bag.] 

Aaron.     So  you  see! 

Blanche  [calmly].  Yes.  [Reflective.]  Strange 
it  never  occurred  to  me  before! 


126  BODY  AND  SOUL 

Aaron.    What? 

Blanche  [genially'\.  Why,  of  course  she  was 
born  to  give  lectures  in  America.  That's  how 
they'll  all  end. 

Aaron.     All  who.? 

Blanche.  All  the  Lady  Mabs.  They'll  think 
that's   what   Columbus   discovered   America   for. 

Aaron.    You're  a  terrible  woman. 

Blanche  [sweetly'].  I  am.  And  I'm  hungry. 
Shall  we  go  to  Lyons? 

Aaron.     Yes,  let's. 

Blanche  [with  Midland  accent^.  But  look 
here,  young  man.  This  'ere  bag.  Art  going  to 
luff  it  down  St.  James's  Street? 

Aaron  [with  Midland  accent],     I  am  that! 


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